


"Up To No Good"

by SleepWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Affectionate Insults, Bisexual Lily Evans, Blood purity, Broken Friendships, Character(s) of Color, Drinking to Cope, Drug Use, Fire JKR, Fluffy Moments, Fluid Sexuality, Gay Sirius Black, HP belongs to the people now, Hagrid is a transwoman, Hogwarts 1975-1977, Inclusive pronouns, James has absent but doting parents, Lily loves Alice, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders shenanigans, Marx was a wizard, McGonagall has had enough of their shit, Mention of Physical and Emotional Abuse, Peter Pettigrew wants to be loved and admired, Remus Lupin is the best, Sirius and James are besties, Slow Burn, Snape is still responsible for his actions, Suicidal Thoughts, The Knight Bus (Harry Potter), The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wizarding Politics, fuck terfs, healthy masculinity, lots of swearing, non-gendered dormitories, otherwise canonically accurate, some unapologetic social commentary, targeted persecution, the ministry is pretty useless, witch is gender neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepWriter/pseuds/SleepWriter
Summary: Hogwarts, 1975.Their fifth year is supposed to be the best yet: a Yule Ball, finally winning over Lily Evans, and finishing the Map... well, that was the plan. In reality, the Marauders find themselves struggling internally and externally to find purpose in their studies, their friendships, and their future. Meanwhile, darkness brews on the horizon as You Know Who's supporters gain traction (and new recruits) throughout England.I.e., The characters we love (and hate) but reimagined within a better, more compassionate HP universe.
Relationships: Alice Longbottom & Lily Evans Potter, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Argus Filch & Mrs Norris, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy, I've poured my blood, sweat, and tears of passion into this "HP but better" fan fiction. It's the longest I've ever written and based upon a lot of canonical research (with important diversity-oriented adjustments), so please be kind. 
> 
> I grew up loving HP and was truly upset by the actions of its author, so this piece is about reclaiming that early love and integrating a more critical and adult perspective. This is a complete work.
> 
> I have The Gayly Prophet podcast to thank for the inspiration. 
> 
> ♥♥♥ Leave a comment and make my day ♥♥♥

It snowed on September 1st.

As the vermillion train pulled into the station, soft oohs and ahhs echoed through the air as first years, bundled tightly against the cold, caught a glimpse of the castle in the distance.

Peter had spent all summer cooped up at home, helping with the house, the laundry, the grocery shopping. Although banned from using magic outside of school, his parents had no qualms about his learning to do these things the muggle way, so long as he performed to their satisfaction. 

His hands, sore and calloused, now clutched a stubby wand. 

The whistle sounded, and doors flew open. Prefects shouted instructions as they herded younger students. The boy and girl in Peter’s compartment stood, shook their robes out, and began to leave. The boy put a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, and she grinned with teeth that shone against her rich complexion.

“Alice! Is that you?!” A voice shrieked from the corridor, followed by a flash of ginger hair as a newcomer rushed into embrace her. 

“It’s been so long, Lily! Did you get my last letter? The World Cup was delightful, wasn’t it?”

The boy offered an amicable smile as the girls continued to chat.

Peter followed them onto the platform, a shadow. 

How he looked forward to seeing his own rowdy crew: Sirius, with his long dark hair and striking eyes. Remus, olive-skinned and artful hands, and James—Peter missed him most. James Potter, always the voice of jest. His lighthearted mischief even made professors like him, albeit grudgingly. 

Sure, he could really be an insufferable show off—especially around a certain Lily Evans, but Peter admired his confidence. This winter would bring around another Yule Ball, long awaited for most, yet the lone boy felt woeful and unprepared. 

Maybe all four of them could just go together?

\--- 

“There he is, our dear Loverboy Prongs!” Sirius Black called from the steps of the Great Hall.

James spun around with surprise. Laughing, Sirus ran up and clapped him on the back, causing the shorter boy to lose balance for a moment. James pushed him back playfully. 

“It’s good to see you, too, mate.”

“How was your summer?”

“Alright. Yours?”

“Mediocre at best. Any luck with Evans?”

“She actually looked at me earlier.”

“That’s progress!” 

“Been working on the Map at all?”

“I was near halfway done by June! Then mum started to suspect something was up, so I had to stop. But I managed to smuggle it home and back.”

The crowd of students shuffled forward and they took their seats. 

“Where’s Remus?” Sirius asked. 

“Haven’t seen him yet. Peter?”

“I thought he was coming with you—”

“Oy, you two!” Frank Longbottom, a lanky sixth-year, interrupted. “Headmaster’s about to speak.”

A chorus of quiet spread over the four tables as a figure in silver rose from the teacher’s table. Albus Dumbledore, his fluffy beard flecked with gray, surveyed the hundreds before him. 

“Another year at Hogwarts!” He declared with arms open to the masses. “Another opportunity to dwell on the changes we have undertaken over the summer. I am sure most of you know of the unexpected outcome of the Quidditch World Cup, but I implore you to center your efforts once more upon learning. As a reminder, the forest on the grounds is still forbidden,” he paused, shooting a meaningful look at the Gryffindor table. “And all rule-breaking will result in punishment. 

“On another note, I am pleased to welcome our latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…”

“I told you the position was cursed,” Peter whispered under his breath. 

James startled. “Peter, you’re here! How was summer?” 

Frank Longbottom smacked him over the head with a napkin. 

“…And we have asked the Ministry to implement the use of anti-curse magic across the school grounds in the wake of rumored Death Eater activity.” Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing: “If anyone experiences dark magic I ask you to report it immediately to your head of house.”

There was a brief wave of muttering among students, several “shhhhh”s, and then silence once more.

“Finally, I would like to offer a warm welcome to our first years. Make your houses proud.” Applause, and then the tables immediately filled with food.

“Have you seen Remus?” Peter asked them.

“No, we were just talking about that,” Sirius said through a mouthful of lamb. 

“It’s not full moon for at least another week,” James said, “It’s unlike him to miss a school assembly.”

“Maybe he’s sick?” Peter suggested.

“Lupin? I hear he’s a prefect now,” Alice Fortescue said from across the table, her hand resting on Frank’s. Immediately recognizing her from the train, Peter barely registered the sentence.

Sirius spit out his food, spraying James as he did so. “You’re kidding.”

She shrugged. 

“She’s kidding,” he told James. “Got to be.”

James shared a meaningful look with Peter. “I wouldn’t but it past the teachers to recognize how hard that bloke works.”

“True.”

Sirius shook his head. “Now that I’ve fucking GOT to see.”

\---

Remus poured over his books for the third time, bending back dog-eared pages, and restoring the second-hand spines with careful waves of his wand. 

Prefect. Now that was something to be proud of. Maybe he really could be a professor one day. 

A whoosh of feathers flew through the window and landed on his desk: Varro, his father’s owl, with a canvas package tied to her leg. 

Remus unwrapped the careful knot and unfurled the cloth, letting out a waft of cinnamon. A letter was attached. 

My dear,  
Have a lovely time back at school. We miss you already. I’ve enclosed extra cakes for your friends. Take care.  
Mum 

She never explicitly told him how proud she was, but that was okay. He had inherited her kindness, her love of history, and her capacity for stubborn, boundless love. 

Remus took the note, folded it, and tucked it securely away into his chest pocket. 

A minute or so later, the Gryffindor portrait swung open and his three best friends surged into the common room. 

“Remus!” Sirius shouted, steam-rolling Peter to get to his friend. 

“It’s good to see you,” Remus murmured, his eyes soft.

“Prefect? Don’t tell me it’s true!” James accused. 

“Well...yeah.”

“Merlin’s twat!” Sirius cackled. “Way to make up for the rest of us dunderheads!”

Remus smiled shyly as Peter ran forward to fist-bump him.

“Alright, Moony. Don’t go telling on us now,” James quipped, attempting to mess with Remus’ hair, but the latter ducked out of reach. 

“So long as you lot make better decisions than last year,” Remus chuckled. Sirius rolled his eyes. 

Frank and Alice entered behind them, followed by Lily Evans. 

James immediately forgot about everyone else. 

“If you get any prettier, I’ll have to throw myself in the lake,” he muttered, transfixed, and not quite loud enough for her to hear. 

The other three suppressed laughter, but James was utterly oblivious. 

“Potter,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement. God, those eyes could give Ireland a run for its money. 

“Evans…” He returned, swaggering forward. “Yule Ball is this year.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Any chance you’ll go with me?”

“Any chance you’ll recover from being a chronic asshole?” She replied, striding toward the far dormitory. 

“Oooooh,” Sirius and Peter chorused. 

James’ bronze complexion turned a bit pink. “Well…. Think about it!” he called after her. “Bloody hell in a boggart.” 

Sirius clapped him on the back. “Promising start.”

\---

That night, after James and Peter had gone to sleep, Remus stayed up reading. Sirius sketched in a library book by the light of a candle. 

“What’s with your neck?” Remus asked him.

“A goodbye from my mother,” Sirius replied, cupping the bruise with one hand as if to hide it.

Remus put his book down but said nothing. Their eyes met from across the room. 

“It’s fine, Moony. It’s not like I’m going back.”

“No?”

“No.”

A pause.

“You could report it. In fact I think you should.”

Sirius’ mouth curved in to a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. “Have you met my family?” 

“What about Regulus?”

“What about him?”

“Is he okay? Are they…?”

“He’s their perfect little Slytherin. He’s fine.”

“Sirius—”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Remus dropped his gaze to the pages, not reading. “I care, that’s all.”

“I know.”

\---

Peter dreamed. 

He lay in the middle of a field mid-summer, tall grasses swaying all around him. The sky was a pale cornflower blue, streaked with cotton clouds. 

His chest was light, lighter than it had been in a long time. It seemed everything worth worrying about was taken care of. All he had to do was wait here for the next great thing. Someone would come for him. 

The wind picked up, and the sky grayed over. Someone was singing to him, in a soft tone he had never heard from his own mother. 

The words were clear: “You are gifted, and you will be used. You have a great role to play.” 

It made him happy. 

\---

Lily shot a glance down the row of Flitwick’s class to where Severus was seated.

He did not seem to notice her. 

He was taller than before, perhaps close to six feet now. His dense black hair curtained those same sharp features, the winter-pale skin. 

Why hadn’t he written back to her?

Lily flashed back to their departure from Hogwarts fourth year, late that spring. Severus had said goodbye with his familiar gruff tone. He had waited a minute longer as if to say something else to her, but decided against it. 

She suspected he did not have other friends. It made little sense that he sat farther away today.

“Remember to picture a place that feels like home when you conjure the spell,” Professor Flitwick was instructing from his perch atop several books. “When you are ready, face your neighbor and speak the words with confidence.”

“Fiducia Radices,” they mumbled. 

Beside Lily, Xenophilius Lovegood waved his wand. Instantly she felt a hot wash of relief sweep over her, as if she had taken a long sip of her gran’s tea. Earl Grey, with cream and a single sugar block. She sighed.

“Well done! Once more now,” Flitwick encouraged. 

Who cared if Severus was acting aloof? It wasn’t her problem. At the prompt, she returned the charm with a flourish.  
\---

After the lesson was finished, she managed to catch up to Snape. 

“What’s going on? I’ve missed you.”

“Hello, Lily,” he murmured. He seemed to withdraw into himself. 

“I wrote you,” she said.

“I’ve been traveling.”

“Really? Where? How was it?”

He shook his head, clutching his books closer to his chest. “Romania.”

“Isn’t that where that muggle family disappeared? Did you hear about that? Dumbledore says the Ministry is upping department security—”

“I have to go, Lily. I’ll see you around.”

He continued walking down the hall, but she did not. Xenophilius’ charm had definitely worn off, because she felt his curtness like a slap to the face. 

Have I done something to upset him? She thought, wracking her mind. Her last letter had felt a bit forced, but it was only because he hadn’t responded all summer, and, well, her parents had refused to allow any more owls in the house. 

It had been so easy between them just a year ago. 

She recalled lying beside the lake under the autumn sun with him, joking about his conspiracy theory about the Womping Willow and the Shrieking shack. 

“I bet ten galleons you wouldn’t go down there,” he had dared. 

“You’re right about that, because I’m not an idiot. Unlike some people we know.”

\--- 

Whenever Sirius walked down a hall, heads turned. 

“Is something on it?” he asked James, gesturing to the handsome leather jacket hanging from his shoulders. His eyes gleamed beneath dark lashes. 

James shook his head, amused by the situation. “Have no fear, dear Padfoot.” 

Sirius, shrugging, continued his rant about the muggle known as David Bowie. “It’s seriously his best album yet. You have to listen to him, mate. It’s mad how few people here know about him.”

Up ahead, a Ravenclaw girl intercepted them. 

“Uh, excuse me…Black, isn’t it? I uh, I was wondering…the Yule Ball is coming around this year, and uh…if you weren’t…I mean…maybe you uh…”

She blushed, froze up, and then proceeded to sprint away without finishing her request. 

“And so it begins,” narrated James to no one in particular. Beside them, Peter chuckled appreciatively. 

“Anyway,” Sirius continued, as if nothing had happened, “Starman is my current favorite single of his; it’s about how muggles have made it to space, and from the singer’s perspective, he’s basically an alien…”

“We’re going to be late for Divination,” Peter interjected. 

“Okay, okay. But first: have you heard of Elton John?”

They shared a blank look. 

Sirius shook his head. “Really, the both of you.”

\---

That night, he played Tiny Dancer over the enchanted radio James had bought him last Christmas.

“It’s good,” Peter remarked. “But my question: is she literally a tiny dancer, like, a gnome or pixie or something?”

“It’s art, Peter,” Sirius groaned. 

“I know, but it would make more sense—”

The door swung open. It was Remus. 

“Kind of you to join us, finally,” James remarked.

“I had to do extra-credit for Astronomy.” 

“Okay, Future-Mr-Headmaster.”

“Shut up.”

“Here, Remus, come listen to this.” Sirius patted the carpet beside him. 

The song played over again. 

“What do you think it’s about?” Peter asked him. 

Remus frowned. “A fairy?”

Sirius buried his face in his hands. 

\--- 

James turned over yet again, as he had these past few weeks, trying and failing to douse his thoughts.

As a joke, he and Peter had been keeping tally of the number of people to ask Sirius to the Yule Ball (months in advance, mind you), and while it amused James it also churned his stomach. 

It wasn’t that he was jealous of Sirius, really. James knew his friend had his own problems. Mostly, James was angry with himself. 

It had been four plus years, and his identity still revolved around performing for other people. He thought of the other three, clever, and beautiful and dependable to a fault.

Who am I without them?

It was times like these that being alone terrified him. He pushed it down. He thought about the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. He thought about Lily. He thought about his parents and wondered if they missed him at all.

He pushed it down. He thought about the World Cup, and how the Applebee Arrows had snatched victory from under the Holyhead Harpies in a matter of minutes, to everyone’s surprise. He thought about the Hogwarts stands bursting into applause for him, the snitch in hand, circling the field. The look on Snivelus’ face as he was lifted on his teammates’ shoulders. 

Brilliant performance, Hooch would yell. 

Restless, he sat up and pulled the Map out from his trunk. He tapped it with the tip of his wand, whispering, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

It unfolded before him in the darkness, revealing the dormitories and rooms beyond. There were still technical errors with the layout of the castle, and sometimes it failed to show people until they were within half a mile of the user. Otherwise it worked better than any of them had imagined. 

James stared down at the Map. 

With the light of his wand, he watched as Argus Filch and Rubeus Hagrid shuffled along the third floor corridor, past the portrait of Uric the Oddball, down the twisted staircase, and out the double doors onto the open grounds. No doubt perusing the castle in search of students out of bed—or perhaps dark witches. 

He could imagine the gruff half-giant mumbling about some undoubtedly lethal animal while the stiff-mouthed caretaker led the way by lamplight. 

Those two were easy to evade, if you knew where to hide. Utterly remarkable that Dumbledore kept either around. Sure, Hagrid was well intentioned, but Filch? 

They were barely capable of magic, and had fewer schooling years between the two of them than he did. Plus neither could hold a candle to his talents.

This is what Remus meant by ‘bigheaded’, James realized. The bubble in his chest immediately deflated into a limp, hollow skin of shame.

You’re a Gryffindor, he reminded himself. 

He tried again to sleep. 

\--- 

“Leave the ground only when I say you can,” Madam Hooch ordered. “And I mean it, no funny business or I will shut down this match and deduct points from both houses.”

Behind her back, Lucius Malfoy stuck out a hand in puppet-like mimicry. “No funny business,” he mouthed. Snowy-haired and broad-shouldered, he perched atop a brand-new Clean Sweep Twelve beside Slytherin’s two Beaters. 

From the stands, Professor McGonagall’s voice boomed. “With storm clouds on the way, it’s no soft weather they’re flying in. On the Gryffindor side, last year’s team welcomes their new Captain, Eliza Finnigan. No new additions to the Slytherin side, although by the looks of it, they’ve upgraded their broomsticks. Big surprise. Oh well. To all parties, have a good game and have a safe game.”

Hooch blew her whistle, and raised both leather-gloved hands into the air. At her signal, the fourteen players took off, speeding to either side of the field. 

James hurtled under a bludger, narrowly dodging it. Magnum Goyle grinned at him, grasping a heavy oak bat. 

Thunder grumbled overhead as Finnigan made the first goal of the match. The crowd roared. 

Far below, their friends shouted in excitement. Sirius’ face was painted red and gold, while Peter waved a lion-spangled flag in earnest. Remus sat beside them, a textbook in his lap and a smile on his face. 

Finnigan passed James the Quaffle. It fit so familiarly in his hands. 

A tall Slytherin girl, (Parkinson was it?) intercepted his path. He threw the ball over her head to another Gryffindor chaser. 

Time flew by as they did, and soon enough James was looking up to see the scoreboard. They were up a hundred-twenty points. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wall of players in green bearing down on Antony Wood, who shouted something to James.

His hands caught the quaffle before he could think. He steeled himself to take the shot but before he knew it, they were upon him. 

Goyle’s teeth flashed a bright smile. James saw the beater’s club swing across his vision. 

He pivoted just in time, instead colliding midair with another figure in green. 

He heard thud, and then the world slipped sideways into darkness. 

The next thing he knew was earth. Mud seeped into his robes. Slytherin’s seeker, Regulus Black stood over him, the snitch in his hand.

A tremendous uproar sounded. The masses screamed themselves hoarse.

“Good try, Potter,” Regulus said. 

\---

“It was just bad timing,” Peter was despairing. “We would have won—”

“Potter fell for the feint. It’s not like Goyle was actually going to beat him with a bat.”

“Sure, but Black dove right in his path.” 

“He’d already seen the snitch at that point.”

“And just happened to nail James in the face?”

“If you ask me, Potter flew into him. That doesn’t count as a foul!”

“You don’t count,” Peter told the Slytherin third-year. Although the words were fierce, his voice cracked mid-way. “Clear off before someone else gets hurt.” 

“Rules are rules.”

“Funny coming from Slytherin!”

“Peter, calm down,” Remus warned.

“But, Remus. You saw it too—”

Sirius turned away from the argument, cursing under his breath. He slinked over to the infirmary fireplace. 

“We’ll just have to win the next one,” James said bitterly, one eye badly blackened. A thick wool blanket hung loosely around his shoulders. He grimaced as a rosy-cheeked Madam Pomfrey leaned down to press a hand to his collarbone.

“Broken, I’m sorry to report.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Sirius hissed from his place against the wall. 

Madam Pomfrey sighed, popped the cork off of a deep purple vile and poured the contents into a goblet, which she set pointedly in James’ hand. Turning on her heel, she ushered the last couple onlookers out the door.

“You tried your best, mate. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Remus told James.

“Maybe Lily missed it. Maybe she didn’t see.”

“Evans usually sits with Hagrid. He’s hard to miss—”

“She, Sirius.”

“Right, sorry. But I didn’t see either of them.”

“It’s Quidditch, mate. Accidents happen.” Peter threw one last look at the door, before lowering himself onto the bench beside James and Remus. 

“I’m sorry about Regulus,” Sirius said very quietly then. He seemed to be apologizing for more than just the match.

James just sighed. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but evidently changed his mind. What could any of them say? 

Sirius’ expression was darker than the shadows cast by the fire, which crackled in the silence. What would it feel like to be whole? He wondered. The years since he was sorted into Gryffindor had created a chasm in him, which grew wider and wider, until he could barely identify with the Noble House of Black. 

Failure. Scourge upon our family.

He shook himself.

“Mate,” James cut in. “You know this just means we’ve got to seek our just revenge, take the Slytherins down a peg. It may be time to revisit dear Mr. Filch’s closet of goods.”

For the first time that afternoon, Sirius let himself smile. 

“Let’s do it.”

Thus began the elaborate scheme to prank the squib.

In a couple days, James was fully healed and once again optimistic. To everyone’s surprise, Lily Evans approached him one night at dinner and asked how he was feeling. 

“Ready to sweep you off your feet, Evans,” he retorted mindlessly.

She rolled her eyes and returned to her seat. 

“What? What?!” James demanded, to badly stifled laughter from the other three.

Later that same evening, the four of them poured over the Marauders’ Map. Remus had a few minor adjustments to make, and spent a while debating with Sirius about the merit of tracking ghosts or not.

“I think we should, because bother with Peeves, and the whole plan’s ruined.”

“But the way the Map works now, they’ll obscure any living person in the same space.”

“But Moony—” Sirius leaned forward. “Say Filch recruits the Bloody Baron as lookout for suspicious behavior… we’d be in detention before you could say ‘get rekt.’” 

“I agree,” Peter piped up. “And if you need a distraction, I’ll do it.”

They paused to look at him. 

“Filch would flay you alive.”

“So? I’m—I’m not scared of him.”

“Peter, you hate the very prospect of conflict.”

“Why are you helping us, Remus? Won’t your prefect badge burst into flames for this?” Sirius quipped.

“In theory, if you do pull it off, I’d want you to be safe. And thoughtful.”

Sirius sniggered. 

“Loophole,” James whispered, and they high-fived under the table.

Remus let out a soft sigh, re-crossed his legs in the armchair, and idly fiddled with a loose string off his mismatched socks. “I’ll never get over you lot.”

“Oh, please.” Sirius grinned. “Like you could.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tree branches creaked overhead; their brilliant autumn leaves painted shades of gray in the nighttime. A brisk wind passed through the woods. 

Remus stood bare-chested in the clearing, shivering. He watched as thin silver clouds cleared the moon. 

He thought fleetingly of the castle, miles away, hopefully far enough to keep his classmates safe. He knew the other three at least would be cautiously sequestered. 

It began, as it always had, with the seizing. 

His shoulders and back shuddered and shook, bones straining against the fragile skin until it split open. His knuckles whitened along his clenched fists. His jaw came loose in its socket, bone thickening around his teeth to form carnivorous points.

He felt the grinding of muscle against muscle as his body swelled painfully, sprouting thick, musky hair. His feet shot out of his boots, splitting skin along each toe pad. His nails stiffened into thick gray claws.

Stifling a scream, Remus fell forward onto his knees. The blinding rage took over then. It was part of him, yes, but not something he ever wanted. 

Being a werewolf was something that harmed you.

In a matter of seconds, his mind turned to hunger. Jagged, wild desire for fresh meat and violence filled every sense. Dread turned to yearning. His human complexity evaporated with a shudder. 

He sprinted off into the darkness.  
\---

The first thing Remus remembered was waking up in the frost. 

Leaves littered the ground under him, sticking to his scratched and bleeding body. He tried to turn over, but met a flash of agony. Ribs, probably. He paused, breathing slower to lessen the sharpness of air through lungs that felt like dried fruit skin.

Where am I? He thought, followed inevitably by a far worse question: Did I kill last night?

He squinted into the forest. Through the trees, dim morning light dappled patches of ground here and there. Roots of upturned bushes revealed his path of rampage.

No obvious landmarks. No sight of Hogwarts. 

I have to sit up, he told himself. I have to. 

He took a slow breath, and counted down. With a grunt, he pressed his hands into the dirt, bracing against his battered body. A spasm of pain squeezed tears from his eyes. 

He had never felt so weak. Not when children ogled him first year, knowing he was different without knowing how. Not when his parents had told him to keep quiet in class and avoid attention, in case a target was placed on his back.  
Rumors proved nothing, but they spread like wildfire. 

It would be the end of him if his secret was found out. Dumbledore had made an exception, so Remus had better show it to be the right judgment call, lest he face expulsion. Everyone would be watching, whispering, waiting for him to trip up. 

He held himself a moment longer, then crumpled again. 

Shame and embarrassment made his face hot. His head pounded. If only James had let me bring my wand, he thought. 

It felt like hours before he heard movement. 

“Remus! There you are!” Sirius’ familiar voice sounded deep through the clearing, but it came from behind. 

Sirius, in knee-high dragon leather boots, crunched over to him, grabbed an arm, and hoisted Lupin over his shoulder. 

“You look like shit, mate,” he said softly. 

Remus only grimaced, aware of his tear-streaked face and bloody lips.

The way back was slow, but Sirius didn’t mind. 

“Can you manage?” He asked, wrapping his cloak around Remus to keep him warm. Now and then it would be accompanied by a warning like “there’s a fallen tree here,” or “there’s a bit of a dip in the path here, don’t twist your ankle.”

At one point, they had to stop as the freckled boy cramped up again. 

Sirius lowered him onto a nearby rock, a look of concern passing over his ivory face. 

“It’s fine,” Remus hissed, clutching his gut. A moment later he was retching. 

Whatever I ate, he thought. He felt Sirius’ hand on his back. 

It took several minutes to pass.

“T-thank you for coming to get me,” he whispered finally. 

His friend’s dark eyes were impossible to read. Then Sirius knelt down and kissed Remus on the head. Warmth filled the pit of his stomach. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

“C’mon,” the taller boy said then. “We’re nearly home.” 

\---

“So then, Peter had the idea that James should take sips of the felix felices while we brewed the leaves all month long, and ta-da! Success. Finally.”

In his fuzzy gray sweater beside the Gryffindor fire, Remus sat open-mouthed. 

“It’s been more than a year in the making,” Sirius explained, “but now we’re able to join you as animals whenever you need us.”

Remus stared at them. There was a long pause. 

“You guys...animagi…for me?”

James and Sirius grinned ear-to-ear at his amazement. 

Peter vibrated in his seat, unable to contain himself and before their eyes, shrunk into a rat. He scampered off the gold velvet armchair and into Remus’ lap.

Remus caressed him softly, looking from Sirius to James. 

“I mean, the nicknames have been kind of odd… but now I…I don’t know what to say…” 

“Oh, don’t cry, Moony. This is good news!”

“I was dying to tell you. Isn’t it great?”

Remus wiped his face with a puffy sleeve. 

Occasionally at home, his parents would display their affection for him in small acts of generosity. His mother might iron a new shirt for his summer job interview; his father might leave encouraging notes on the fridge, or on top of well-wrapped catering leftovers from work. This type of demonstration had always touched him, because it said so much more than words could. 

But to receive it from his three best friends…he had never been ready for that. 

“Thanks, guys,” he managed. 

Peter squeaked happily.

The conversation carried into the afternoon. “Of course we won’t get registered,” Sirius was saying. 

“Underage animagi aren’t exactly upstanding civilian material. I suppose we’ll just have to stay under the radar,” James nodded.

“McGonagall would be so pleased, though.” Peter fiddled with his nails.

“She would want to know why. And that poses problems.”

“Alright, alright. But you have to admit it does add something to our stealth around the castle.”

“Not James, though. Unless you think Lily would fawn over a wild stag.” Peter cracked up at his own joke. Remus and James groaned. 

“I doubt anyone but Hagrid would want me indoors,” Sirius added. 

“I told you. Should have been a cat, Padfoot.”

“But the hairballs, mate.”

Remus smiled. “You do realize,” he said, “we’re already registered on the Map.”

“So it just has to stay out of the wrong hands.”

“Be careful with it, is all I’m saying.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Prefect?” Quipped James. 

“Shove off!” Remus laughed. James stuck out his tongue. 

\--- 

With November came a rush of midterms, the first hail of the year, and an increase of mail-by-owl.

Over a breakfast of pumpkin bread, bacon and eggs, Remus read the Daily Prophet front page.

“Ministry Warns of Imminent Threat to Muggleborns: 

“‘Blood-motivated attacks are on the rise,’ Minister of Magic, Harold Minchum said to the press earlier this week. Lancashire and York have witnessed a total of nine murders in the past twelve weeks, eight of which were muggleborn witches. Death Eaters have also been spotted in Glasgow last Thursday evening, though several witnesses refused—or rather were unable—to say where they went.  
“Mr. Minchum has moved to secure Azkaban prison with thirty-percent more dementors in an attempt to reinforce security. ‘I am well aware of the moral question this change raises,’ he told Rita Skeeter, opinion writer. ‘However, our Aurors are busy tracking down You-Know-Who’s closest supporters, and we really cannot afford the escape of those already found to be associated.’ Muggleborns in particular are at risk and should contact the nearest support center if they experience any further hostility. Dark times, it seems, are at hand.”

Remus lowered the newspaper with a sigh. 

“No wonder Dumbledore was on edge at the opening feast,” Peter murmured. “It’s not like him to fail to crack a joke.”

James sat looking into his tea. “Lily’s a muggleborn.”

Sirius slapped him on the back. “Buck up, mate. This castle has more magical defense than the load of grease in Snivelus’ hair. She’ll be safe with the rest of us.”

“No, I mean—I mean she must know about this, too.” James’ frown deepened. “She must be afraid for her parents.”

“That’s…thoughtful of you,” Peter told him. “But what I heard of them, at least her sister, isn’t too heartwarming.”

James continued to stare into his teacup. 

Just then, an owl soared down and landed in front of Sirius, who hastily moved his bowl of cereal. 

“What the bloody hell…” He untied the bright red envelope attached to its leg.

The other three immediately leaned away, sure it would start shrieking at any moment, bursting the eardrums of everyone in the vicinity. Howlers tended to look just like that, even to the extent of the wax seal. 

This one, however, was emblazoned with a large B and the Black family crest. 

Several tables away, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Black—Sirius’ cousin—prodded each other and snickered. Across from them, Regulus shook his head.

Sirius lost his smile. “I’m going to go upstairs before I open this,” he said. “Leave my food, I don’t want it.”

The other three exchanged looks as their friend strolled out of the Great Hall.

Off of the History of Magic classroom was a disused broom cupboard. It was at this windowless spot that Sirius stopped and peeled off the wax seal. 

To Sirius Black, the Eldest Son of Walburga and Orion,

Records show you have received several notices of misconduct since 1969 when you were sorted into Gryffindor House. Among these offenses are as follows: Defacing the family records of Purest Blood; Befriending a half-blood werewolf; Repeatedly humiliating your parents in word and action; failing to respect the ancestral Slytherin House; Using Muggle music and narcotics.  
This is not Black behavior. You have been deemed unworthy and unfit of the name, and hereby are divorced from any persons, places, and property of the Noble House of Black. Do not contact anyone holding the title Black. Do not return, under penalty of prosecution and imprisonment. 

He stopped reading, although it went on for several more paragraphs. He didn’t even bother to see who had penned it. Instead, he folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. He sat down on an overturned bucket. 

Unworthy. 

He balled his hands into fists and released them. Several times. He breathed. His heart continued its steady dark beating. 

He wasn’t surprised really. He had even joked about it happening someday. The day I get kicked out, we celebrate, he had said to James. Fuck them and their pureblood bullshit. 

But it wasn’t supposed to be today. 

He breathed. Why hadn’t his stomach sunk yet? His chest ached, but that could have been from the food. His fingers were cold, but that was fine. 

Eventually his feet carried him to the Gryffindor common room, where James was pacing. At Sirius’ arrival, he stopped, and saw the look on his friend’s face.

Wordlessly, Sirius handed over the letter.

“…They really just did that. Fuck, man.”

“I told you so,” Sirius joked, but his voice was dry.

They ended up skipping Herbology, which was well enough. James insisted upon a better idea. 

Half an hour later they had grabbed Peter, and sat in the Three Broomsticks (of Honeydukes fame) sipping hot butterbeer. The pub was conspicuously empty, except for a couple of passing witches—it was the middle of the day, after all—so they stood out quite a bit. 

Madam Rosmerta tut-tutted as she refilled their glasses, but otherwise said nothing. 

“Good to see you again, too,” James called after her. 

“She’s going to tell on us one of these days,” Sirius said. 

“Do you care?” 

“…No.” 

\---

“You boys are the worst behaved students I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!” McGonagall scolded, brandishing her wand.

James bumped fists with Sirius. “Alright! WE’VE DONE IT, BOYS!”

“That is enough, Mr. Potter.” 

“Oh, deer.”

“To be fair, Professor,” Sirius interjected, “we didn’t set the Three Broomsticks on fire. That was the spells of the alumni, they didn’t like us talking shit about Slytherin.”

She took a visible breath, smoothed the top of her hair, and pursed her lips. “Regardless of WHO started the fire, you three most definitely will be helping Professor Sprout with her Mandrakes. And don’t forget to apologize for blatantly disrespecting her class time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter mumbled. The other two exchanged looks. 

\---

November 3rd, 1975

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” James and Peter shouted, and fired off a sparkly stream of confetti from their wands. This floated slowly to the ground, dusting Sirius, the bed, and the floor. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, blinking sleep from his eyes.

Beside him, the enchanted radio started to play a classical celebratory tune.

“How’s it feel to be sixteen?” Remus grinned from the foot of his bed. In his hand was a small cardboard box tied with string. 

Sirius sat up and yawned loudly in response. 

Remus placed the present on his friend’s lap. He, James and Peter watched cheerfully as Sirius frowned down at it, picked it up, and shook it. 

“You lot shouldn’t have.”

“Too late. Have a look,” Remus urged. 

With nimble fingers, the longhaired boy picked loose the knot and lifted the lid of the box. Inside sat a silver ignition key.

Confused, he looked to each of them. “Explain.”

James beamed. “You see, my dear Padfoot, we’ve pooled our resources together for a down payment on a sexy new ride.”

“Motorbike,” Remus added.

“Flying,” Peter piped up. 

There was a stunned silence. Then: “No bloody way. For real?” In a moment he was up out of bed and hugging all three of them. 

“When can I see it?”

“Dad is going to pick it up next week, but reckons we should keep it at my house. Don’t want it confiscated the moment you show it off. You’ve got to come over for the holidays,” Remus answered. “Mum wants to bake for us.”

“You don’t have to stay here as Prefect?”

“Nah, I already checked with Dumbledore.”

“You sly fox. Or should I say wolf?” Peter giggled.

The other three groaned. 

“Wow,” Sirius was saying, running a hand through his black mane of hair. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

“Something else to look forward to,” James said, “Besides Yule Ball, which, speaking of, is four weeks away.”

“Any luck with Evans?” 

“Oh, I’m not worried. She’ll have to dance with me eventually. I’ll make it happen.”

“You could always try a love potion,” Peter suggested. “Zonko’s has them.”

“Nah,” James shook his head. “I want her to fall in love with me for real. Plus, I don’t put much stock into those commercial ones. They smell too much like feet.”

“They do not.”

“They do, too.” 

Remus bit his lip, but his eyes crinkled. “It is a bit dodgy to use magic to mess with someone’s feelings. And the real thing tends to last longer.” 

“I think so,” Sirius smiled and took Remus’ hand. “I could really use some brushing up on my dancing, by the way. It’s been ages since the last Yule Ball.”

“You think I know how to dance, Sirius?”

“You read more than I do.”

The music continued, and Sirius began counting: “five, six, seven, eight….” He swayed comically left to right, waggling his eyebrows. 

Remus put a hand on his waist. “Well, it’s definitely not whatever you’re doing.”

James chuckled as they staggered at first, and then began to step in sync. Confetti crumbled under their feet, Remus in mismatched striped socks; Sirius, barefoot. 

Peter tried to copy them with his own imagined dance partner, though the room size wasn’t ideal. “Am I doing it right?” He asked intermittently, to no one in particular.

He never got an answer though, as Remus was too intent on their footwork, and Sirius was busy watching him. James looked on, a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation on his face. 

Remus felt his face grow hot under the stares, but he adjusted positioning just right and box-stepped until the song ended. 

He let go of Sirius, and finally Sirius looked away.


	3. Chapter 3

Lily passed James and his friends in the hallway between classes later that week. She dragged her eyes from them and looked at the distant forest, head held high. 

The handsome, dark-haired boy was saying, “Don’t be fickle with Quidditch teams, it’s not a good look. You favored Ravenclaw last time, Peter.”

That shorter, strawberry-blond one waved his hands. “No, well, I didn’t really mean it. I’ve been more excited about the Hufflepuff team. James said they’re improving.”

James’ umber eyes landed on Lily. Sirius said something else, but she wasn’t sure what.

She simply kept walking, aware of how her hair blew in her face. She ignored it, hoping she didn’t look foolish. 

She deserved better than stuck-up jocks like James Potter, anyway. Between his artificial “cool guy” posturing and nasty treatment of Snape, he had failed magnificently in her book. 

He waved shyly at her then, smiling. She hadn’t noticed his dimples before. 

Grimly, she felt herself wave back, and kept walking. A knot shifted in her stomach. 

Severus was absent again from Care of Magical Creatures. What was more surprising, their lesson featured thestrals, which he had been looking forward to for ages. Beside the professor, Hagrid—class assistant—was explaining how they liked to be approached, and where the best place to scratch was. 

To the vast majority of students, the groundskeeper seemed only to interact with air. Severus would have seen, though. Lily was certain. 

He had told her about his mother’s accident. He was seven or eight years old, sitting at the kitchen table. Her dress had been a deep navy, ruffled, and it was the only thing he remembered about her. 

It may have been something in the soup from work. He hands began to shake, her face bluish. Her spoon clattered to the floor. Severus sat frozen in place. 

Ever since, he had been obsessed with brewing antidotes to poison. 

Why would he be skipping? Lily wondered now, taking detailed notes. Had something happened to him? 

\---

She managed to catch him on the way to dinner. 

“What’s going on? Where were you today?” It came out forcefully, betraying to the both of them how upset she was.

“I had to meet some people. Don’t look like that, it’s fine.”

“What are you talking about? I was worried, Severus! You missed class, and I thought maybe you had—”

“This was important.”

“What could be so important!?” 

“Dark magic.” It was a whisper.

“Here? At Hogwarts?” She stared at him. “We have to report this to the teachers.”

His face was hard to read. “No,” he said. 

She opened her mouth to argue. 

“I’m watching them. It’s under control. You of all people don’t need to meddle—”

“What about me!”

“Well, muggle—” He stopped. 

A pause. 

“Lily, you just have to trust me.” 

The look she gave him was thunderous. “I don’t like this.” 

“Lily…”

“Enjoy your dinner.”

He watched her turn to join the other Gryffindors at their table across the hall. She smiled as Alice Fortescue asked her something, and Frank Longbottom offered them both pumpkin juice.

How Severus missed that smile. 

\--- 

Peter laughed along with Remus and the girls as James and Sirius exchanged embarrassing stories about their childhoods.

“Then, of course, mum came home to me on top of the roof, butt-naked. The sticking charm had me nearly two hours, and the neighbors were calling the Ministry…”

They cackled at James’ estimation of what his mother’s face looked like when she saw him. Sirius was shaking with mirth. 

“I used to sleep walk too, when I was little,” Peter interjected hopefully. “Only it was down the street of our house in the middle of winter, and I spent the next three weekends scraping the snow off our driveway to make it up to my parents.”

James exchanged glances with Remus. 

“You didn’t get frost-bite?” Alice asked, more concerned than amused.

“Almost. I think it was maybe like four degrees out. I put on my dad’s shoes before I was out the door!” He laughed to himself. 

“Must’ve been waddling around like a troll,” Sirius snickered. 

James grinned. “It’s a wonder you made it out of the house.”

“Well, no,” Peter said. “I’ve always had bigger feet than other kids. Plus Dad’s inserts were in the boots, so there wasn’t too much extra room.”

He felt a sharp flush across his face as the mood sobered. No one laughed. 

“I’ve got some other good stories,” he added.

“That’s okay, Peter.” James was gazing down the table to where Lily Evans sat. 

An awkward silence ensued, until Sirius broke it with another joke. The others chortled. 

His friends made it look so easy. Peter stuffed his mouth with food to avoid having to say anything else, though he was far from hungry. His stomach ached with shame. 

Would they notice if I left? He pushed the thought down, but the answer was already voiced by the fear in his head. Maybe you’re just inessential. 

“God, you’re hilarious, Black.” Alice pushed her fringe back from her head. “I understand why there’s a queue of people to take you to Yule Ball.” 

She elbowed Frank in the ribs playfully. He elbowed her back. 

“What’s the suitor count now, Padfoot?” James leaned forward. “Twenty…three? Mate, if you don’t say yes soon you’ll be letting the whole school down at this rate. Even the Slytherins will be lining up.”

“C’mon, man. It’s not like that.” 

Just then, a sixth-year Hufflepuff came over to their table. “Did you lot hear? They’re cancelling Quidditch the rest of the semester!”

“Bollocks,” James muttered. 

“Is this a ploy to get us to miss games, Tonks?” Frank quipped. 

“No. It’s a security issue.” 

“Cancel Quidditch?”

“I know, and I finally made it to Team Captain!” Tate Tonks sighed, clapping a hand to their shaved head. James noticed their eyes were a deep purple.

Frank watched Tonks’ walk away, and finally turned to James. “She’s got to be joking.”

“They, Frank,” Remus corrected. “And they’re not the type to joke about that stuff.”

“Isn’t their brother engaged to someone in the Black family?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Andromeda. Bellatrix’ sister.”

“They’re so young to be engaged. I guess they know what they want,” Remus sighed. “I certainly don’t.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

“That is so like you, Sirius.”

“So? I’ll be the best uncle ever. Prongs wants kids eventually.”

James shrugged. “I suppose. Can’t imagine having to be a responsible adult, though. Law-abiding.” He made a face. 

“I think you could do it,” Peter piped up supportively. 

“That’ll be the day,” Remus smiled. 

\---

Sirius sat on a log beside the dead fire pit outside of Hagrid’s hut. The sun was setting over the Forbidden Forest, painting the treetops faint gold. Snow weighed down their branches, muffling the any sound of birds or footsteps. 

The cold bit into his bones. It helped him focus. 

Unworthy. 

He took another swig of fire whiskey, watched his breath ease out in a cloud of white. 

His home life had never been happy, exactly. He didn’t miss his mother’s barbed comments, or his father’s inability to look him in the eye. It wasn’t as if Regulus talked to him much, either. 

Sirius had tried over and over to convince himself to cut ties before they did. Tried to separate from their politics and values as much as he could. He tried to believe he hated them.

It would be easier if they had died, he thought bitterly. Then he could bury them like a proper son.

He drank the burning down.

Perhaps he should write the pain into a narrative in which he ran away. It had been a common theme in his fantasies, after all. If only that small voice that hoped for better had given up and fled.

As that Elton lyric went, “maybe it’s the clouds in my eyes.” 

One day he would see clearer. 

The bottle was nearly empty now. The distant moon shone brighter with the last hint of the daylight. 

He downed the last of the offensive liquid and cast the bottle into the forest. 

He shivered and shifted into big black dog form, and slunk off. 

\--- 

Peter was not permitted to spend Christmas break with the Lupins. 

“We only have a couple months out of the year to see you, don’t you miss us?” His mother pleaded.

“Of course I miss you. I just wanted…Mrs. Lupin is going to bake for us.”

“Isn’t my cooking good enough?”

“Yes, yes. It is. Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll come home.”

“Good boy, Peter. I’ll see you soon.” She withdrew her head from the floo powder fire.

Peter sat back on his heels in guilt. Finally he said, “I’m sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay, Peter,” Remus replied from one of the leather common room armchairs. 

Beside him James shrugged, but Sirius said, “You shouldn’t have to take care of her feelings. She’s an adult.”

Peter did not answer. He just bowed his head. 

“We’ll write to you,” James said. 

“I hope you lot have fun, but not too much fun without me.”

Sirius shook his head. “Next time.”

\--- 

The crowd rumbled with excitement as students filed into the Great Hall, which was decked out in icicles and a constant shower of magical flakes. Figures in formal dress moved in and out of moonbeams, chatting together. 

Sirius wore velvet black robes with a V-neck line, which exposed his collarbones. His ears were studded with silver and matched the lining of his cloak. Several onlookers eyed him intently, whispering to each other. 

Beside him stood Remus in hand-me-down satin. James adjusted a tie overtop his own dark gray cuffed jacket and slacks.

“Glad they didn’t cancel this, too,” the latter muttered, as a pair of young women danced past, arm in arm. 

As The Scoffing Sharks Band began to play beside the teachers’ table, couples poured onto the dance floor. 

Remus offered his hand to Sirius. “C’mon, then.”

Sirius, surprised and pleased, took it. 

“Potter, over here,” Xenophilius Lovegood called merrily from a table, where he, Peter, Alice and Lily sat.

Lily was favored by a fitted, silver dress and soft black vest, her hair tumbling gracefully down the back of her head in auburn waves. Her brilliant eyes shifted to his. She did not smile, but her face seemed to soften.

Xenophilius was saying something about nargles, and how they liked to flit around the heads of light sleepers, but James barely noticed him. 

“Hello, Evans.”

“Potter.”

“You look nice.”

“Hey, James,” Peter greeted.

“Hey.”

He sat with them hesitantly, barely aware of Xenophilius’ ongoing monologue. 

Alice, looking stunning in royal purple and cascading earrings, nudged a bowl of tarts over. James took one and bit into it. Blueberry.

“It’s a bit bigger than I’d imagined,” Peter said, nodding to the masses. “But the teachers seem to be having a good time, for once.” 

Indeed, there was McGonagall and Sprout dancing together, beside Flitwick and Madam Hooch, who looked rather uncomfortable. Even Dumbledore had Horace Slughorn spinning off his arm and into the crowd. Several Slytherins hooted with laughter as their Head of House flew past them.

“Is Snape coming?” Alice asked Lily.

“Probably not.” It could be James’ imagination, but Lily actually looked annoyed.

“Ah, well. Frank’s in the infirmary with a cough.”

“That’s too bad. I know you were really looking forward to this with him. I’d have been happy to take you myself.”

Alice smiled. “You’re the best, dear.” 

“Thanks. But the two are so sweet. I hope he feels better, and I’m glad you came. I almost wasn’t going to, you know, I don’t care too much for formal occasions. But Peter insisted.”

James froze, turned to his friend, and said just loud enough for him to hear, “What.”

Peter, sheepish, nodded. “I knew you wanted her to come.”

Lily Evans, at the Yule Ball…with Pettigrew? It felt as though the world stopped spinning. James did not know how to respond, reckoning that he would either break into hysterics or break Peter’s nose. 

Before he could say anything, Lily poked Peter on the shoulder. “Want to dance?”

Dumbfounded, James watched as Peter shrugged, hopped up, and waded away through the crowd.

“If it helps,” Alice addressed James, “I think they’re only here as friends.”

James, not looking away from where they had disappeared, said, “huh.”

Lily had turned him down every time he had asked her, even jokingly, and but she had said yes to Peter? 

Bloody hell. 

Off in the crowd, Lily spun, her dress billowing out. 

“You’re right. This is fun,” she told Peter.

“You saw the look on his face, then.”

“You bet I did. We really got him.”

Peter smiled shyly. “I feel kind of bad.”

“Don’t,” Lily told him. “James needs to learn to be nicer to people. Including you.”

Peter shook his head. “He’s a great friend to me. Really. He’s just a bit of a dunderhead when you’re around is all.”

She snorted, which Peter thought endearing, actually. He admired her proud independence. What would that feel like, he wondered.

“Have you seen Snape around at all? I know you have Potions together.”

He started with the turn in conversation.

Peter frowned. “He’s usually with uh, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix, I think. We don’t speak, so I’m not sure.”

“They really hate muggleborns, right?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t get it.”

“I see.”

She said very little after that. 

\---

Remus was a phenomenal dancer. At least, compared to anyone Sirius had ever met. Remus led, his hand in Sirius’, the other at his back.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said. 

“On and off,” Sirius replied, turning on his feet. “Thank you for the chocolate.”

“I told you, it always helps.” 

Sirius’ dark eyes stared down into Remus’ gray ones. “Honestly, I wanted to take you to this. I figured you would be here anyway…and I ended up waiting too long to ask.”

“Too long?”

“I guess it’s fine now.”

“Um, okay,” Remus said. 

They danced wordlessly for a minute or so, in step with one another, until Sirius bumped into a Slytherin girl. Annoyed, she barked “Hey!”

“Sorry,” he muttered. Then she caught a look at his face and shook her head, blushing. 

“Turns out I’m still a bit new to this,” he explained. 

“Oh, no, no, I don’t mind at all,” She tittered, backing off.

“Whoops,” he said to Remus, who shook his head in amused disbelief. 

“I don’t believe you, Sirius.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, mate.” Remus raised his eyebrows.

“No, what?”

“You, you’re…” Remus sighed. “Have you even met yourself?”

Sirius grinned in a side-ways manner, still confused. “I haven’t had the pleasure, no.”

Remus’ scarred face broke into laugh lines, his hair falling a bit out of place from where it was combed. His freckles were like scattered stars all down his neck and into his shirt. 

Sirius suddenly felt very self-conscious. He disengaged from the dance, stepping back. “If there’s you know, anyone else you want to dance with…feel free. I think I’m going to go sit for a while.”

Remus’ face fell. “Alright” was all he said. 

Back in the restroom, Sirius splashed water on his face. He felt too alert, too aware of his heart beating, his palms sweating. Worse still was the undying fact that he had no idea what he was doing.

He gazed down into the blackness of the sink drain. 

He wondered whether Remus had asked him to dance to be polite, put to work all their practice. He thought of Remus calmly explaining different types of step patterns…Remus and his disarming smile. 

Maybe it was a good thing Sirius’ family had already disowned him. 

Well, shit. 

He marched out of the room and back to the Great Hall. Soon enough he found James sitting with Alice at a table, while Xenophilius Lovegood gossiped with another witch.

“What’s good?” He asked James, sliding into the chair beside him.

James’ tone was flat. “Lily is dancing with Peter and the world has gone upside down. You?”

“I think I’m into Remus.”

A pause. James looked at him. 

“This just now hit you?”

Sirius nodded reluctantly, sweeping his bangs away from his face.

“Okay then. Guess I owe Frank some money.” He clapped his friend on the back. “Let’s both you and I get out of here, huh? Before Filch starts acting nice or something.”

“Yeah,” Sirius managed. 

\--- 

Over a bottle or two (or three?) of butterbeer stolen from one of the staff rooms, James and Sirius played wizards’ chess on the common room floor. They had both cast off their dress shoes and loosened their collars immediately, and now James’ hair was even more disheveled from being in the process of losing. 

“Yes, Queen. You got this, beat them to a pulp!” James exclaimed. 

“You’re rotten at this, mate,” Sirius said, cringing at his friend’s progress. “S-shoulda listened to Pete an’ given up a long time ago.”

“Shut your pretty face, Padfoot.” James nudged a rook forward. 

“S’not that pretty.”

“It is so,” James argued, aiming and missing for Sirius’ shoulder with his fist. It collided with his cheekbone instead. “Shit, sorry—” James moved to pat the place he had landed the blow.

“Doesn’t hurt. It’s fine.”

“You s-sure?” James leaned in and before either of them knew it he had kissed Sirius. He tasted like a pine forest, pleasant, but that was it really. James broke away. “Hmm, nah…not for me, I think, dear Padfoot.”

Sirius chuckled and pushed him. “Tell me you’re not planning to try that on Evans.” 

“She mus’ really hate me to snub me for Peter,” James whined. “Peter! Of anybody.”

Sirius patted James’ back consolingly. “You oughta ask him about it later.” 

James let out a groan.


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out Peter’s good intentions made little difference when it came to Lily or James. Of course it had been one of those “better in the head” scenarios, but Peter cursed himself at the now-obvious blunder. 

He had taken Lily Evans to the only formal couples’ event they would ever have at Hogwarts. Even while Evans would not have gone with his friend to begin with, Peter felt he had stolen something from James.

I always get in the way. 

“To go behind his back like that—what were you thinking?” Sirius berated him the following weekend. 

“He wanted her to be there. I figured, so long as she was, he could make a move or something?”

“Taking your date? That would make him look bad.”

“I didn’t mean it to be like—”

“Shut it,” Sirius spat, not looking at him. For a split second, Peter thought he saw contempt cross his friend’s face. But then Remus put a hand on Sirius’ arm, and the latter relaxed. 

Peter broke in. “I told James, I’m sorry.”

“If anything, he doesn’t need your help.” 

That’s not what it seemed like to him. James liked to play the wily troublemaker, but when it came to Lily he was hopeless, in Peter’s opinion. 

He thought of her smile, her harsh, honest words: “James needs to be nicer to people. Including you.”

Was James even a bit unfriendly to him? He didn’t think so, so why did she?

“I get what you were going for, mate.” James interrupted his thoughts now, adding, “Just do me a favor, yeah? And loop me in next time.”

“You’re too soft,” Sirius muttered, shrugging. “If it was me, I’d hex him.”

“T-thanks, James. And sorry again, I’m sorry.”

\--- 

Peter dreamed. He was back in the field of grass, only now it was autumn, and dried branches bent in the wind. While the sky was clear, it had a gray cast to it—the promise of thunder. 

He sat up and realized, as a cascade of leaf litter tumbled down, that he had been lying there for ages. Waiting for someone to come get him.  
But no one had come.

The young man shivered. 

He waited some more. 

Winter came. Flecks of white gathered on his eyelids, the rise of his stomach and legs. It piled around him, clung to his ashy hair, left his fingertips blue. He fought off the feeling that no one would come for him, that he didn’t really have a purpose being here after all. There was no grand role to play.

Shadows stretched long. Peter waited. 

He lost feeling in his feet. What was the point of moving? Where could he go?

I’ll surely die waiting to be useful.

He wondered vaguely if the earth beneath him would stay warm and untouched, if afterward there would be a Peter shaped shadow. Maybe spring would start there. 

\--- 

Students departed the week before Christmas, leaving the castle cold and quiet.

Remus, James and Sirius piled into the Night Bus from Honeydukes Station, grunting a bit as they pulled their heavy trunks up the steps. Ernie, the driver, waved them on amicably. He sucked on the end of a long cigar. 

“I can’t wait to meet your mum,” James was saying, grinning from ear to ear as Sirius tripped over someone’s cat. He growled with annoyance. 

The witch scooped it up, giving them a stern look. 

They shuffled past to a row of empty seats. Right then, without a shred of a warning, the bus took off, and each grabbed for a handhold as the floor lurched.

“She’s been eager to share her double-chocolate brownies, which I’d try in moderation if I were you,” Remus cautioned. 

“Eh, moderation is for muggles,” Sirius said, opening a bag over their laps. “Smuggled these from the kitchens yesterday,” he told them. “Take your pick.”

There were licorice wands, Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans, Truffle Delights, Turkish Danishes, and a smattering of Chocolate Toads. 

“I bet they’ve added You-Know-Who by now,” James said, picking one up.

“Merlin’s beard, can you imagine?” 

“Well, he is a powerful witch.”

“No such luck, men. But check it out!” 

The three of them leaned over the card James held out. A grim, square-jawed young man stared back at them, one eye brown and one blue. 

“Alastor Moody, gifted scholar and Auror, was born 1959 in Glasgow, Scotland. As the first Hogwarts student to be publically recognized with the Merlin: Third Class designation during his schooling, he has graduated early and said to be traveling abroad,” Remus read aloud. 

“Way to go, Moody,” Sirius shook his head. “Showing us all up.”

“Wasn’t he that bloke from Ravenclaw?” 

“The prefect? Yes. Keep up, James.”

“He can’t be…he’s sixteen. Sixteen and an Auror!”

“Makes you want to drop out of school, don’t it, mate?” Sirius smirked. 

Remus elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t start.”

The Night Bus swerved to a stop, and several passengers got off. “Kings Cross,” Ernie bellowed. 

“C’mon, boys.” James led them onto a discrete platform and around the corner to the main station. In a flash of purple, the bus was gone. 

“Bloody hell, I’m glad you thought to cast that anti-nausea spell, Remus.” Sirius commented, as they passed a woman in robes dry-heaving. 

Despite the dreary cold, Kings Cross was bustling. Muggles here and there got on and off of trains, bundled tightly. Overhead speakers issued severe weather warnings, sports commentary, and advertisements. 

“Remember to observe curfew, and keep a lookout for suspicious activity and odd characters,” the announcer said. “Next week on the Ed Sullivan Show: a rerun of The Beatles in concert!” 

James caught Sirius’ expression, and shook his head. 

They strode up the walkway, past the ticket barrier, and onto the curbside pickup. Several onlookers eyed their traveling trunks in curiosity.

“They’ll be here soon,” Remus said, peering down the line of cars. 

A few minutes later, a large rusty orange Volkswagen van pulled up to the curb. Sirius’ eyes grew big as it stopped in front of them, and a short, wiry man in green spectacles stepped out of it. 

His face, although clear of markings, crinkled in a familiar smile as he embraced his son. “You’re getting tall.” 

He looked from Remus to the others. “Hello, you must be James and Sirius. Lyall Lupin,” he said, extending his hand.

Before Sirius could shake it, there was a small cry of excitement as a woman emerged from the drivers’ side of the vehicle and also hugged Remus. 

Like him, she was olive-skinned, freckled, and kind-eyed. Her skirts were long in the old Victorian style, though the fabric featured strawberries. 

“I’m Hope. You can go ahead and call me that. Or Mrs. Lupin,” she said, releasing him. 

“I’m James Potter, and he’s Sirius Black,” James replied without a beat, and soon was loading the van with their trunks. 

“Oh! I’ve heard so much about you both! But where’s the other one…Peter?”

“He couldn’t come. Had to go home for the holidays,” Remus said. Mr. Lupin ushered him into the passenger seat, climbing into the back with Sirius. 

“Shame,” she said quietly. 

James joined them, and shut the door. 

“I rather dislike Muggle traffic,” Mr. Lupin told him. “That’s why the wife drives.”

“What’s it like, sharing muggle things and all?”

“Oh well, I appreciate the ingenuity. Plug-in toasters. Central heating. I take it your parents are witches?”

James nodded. Sirius said nothing and watched snowy fields speed past the window. 

Up front, Mrs. Lupin was asking about school. 

“It’s alright. The ministry’s been regulating our security. No more Quidditch matches for the rest of the year!”

“That’s the football-ish one in the air, right?”

“That’s right, dear,” Lyall called from the back.

“Too bad. It’s all the dark magic stuff going on. The Prime Minister wants to make this current curfew more permanent, but it’s going up for debate next month with the House of Lords.” 

“I heard about that in Kings Cross. They sound worried.”

“Muggle families are disappearing.”

Silence.

“I reckon it’s You-Know-Who’s lot. Death Eaters,” Mr. Lupin said. “So far we haven’t directly heard or seen anything, so don’t you worry.”

Looking at their somber faces, he added to James and Sirius, “We’re on the outskirts of town on enchanted property. You’ll be safe with us.”

“It just sounds worse than I thought,” Remus told his mother. 

“Nothing much we can do about it, other than keep our heads down. You get on with school all right. Prefect and everything.”

He blushed. 

“Such a good student, our Remus!” James said from the back.

“Yes, we’re all so proud and impressed,” Sirius chorused.

“Alright, you lot.” 

They broke into laughter, and at once the mood lightened. Remus’ parents joined in good-naturedly.

\--- 

Lily Evans stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas. 

She knew that, despite her parents’ fond bickering over which of her magical aspects was their favorite, going home would mean facing Petunia. 

For years her sister refused to get her presents, however much politeness and parental bribery prompted it. Lily had grown used to sending Petunia knit scarves or bracelets and that being the end of it. They barely spoke, except for occasional whispers. 

“Freak.”

When asked what she had said under her breath, Petunia would deny anything of the sort, and flounce off to her boyfriend’s. Other times, she stayed and tittered with her peers, who would look on and point at Lily. 

Today a great horned owl swooped down to the Gryffindors at breakfast and landed in front of her, package tied to its leg. 

Lily looked to Alice, who said, “It’s not mine.”

Incredulous, she leaned forward and untied the string. The owl hooted softly and lifted off. 

It was a brown paper bag, and surprisingly heavy. A letter attached said “Happy Christmas: Mom, Dad and Petunia” in her sister’s handwriting. 

Lily glanced across the hall to Snape, who prodded glumly at his oatmeal. He was ignoring her, she suspected, or at least he did not look up. Beside him sat Lucius Malfoy and Lou Zabini. 

Happy Christmas indeed, she thought. 

Alice craned her neck to look as Lily hesitantly reached in and withdrew a plain gray stone the size of a small pumpkin. 

Immediately she put it back in the bag. She sniggered. 

“They sent you…a ROCK?” Alice demanded, angrier than Lily felt.

“I wonder where Petunia got this,” is all she said, face in her hands. “And what postage cost…” She continued to laugh until tears fell from her eyes. 

Alice, confused, patted her back comfortingly. 

“It’s okay, Al. She…she’s really something.” Lily wiped her face. “Let’s find this thing a nice home.”

After breakfast, she, Alice and Frank marched down to the Black Lake, which had a thin layer of ice at the shoreline. 

With a yell, Lily launched the stone into the air. 

They watched as it crashed and shattered the glassy water, before sinking down, down, down. 

The ripples continued for several minutes, and Lily watched them, feeling nothing but fiery hot relief. 

“Good throw,” Frank said finally. He put a hand on her back. “I think we need hot chocolates. C’mon. My treat.”

\---

Severus Snape was in a bind, and not just because Lily had stopped speaking to him.

Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin House, had been watching him for some time now. The portly man always had a knack for knowing who to collect and who to pass by. Severus had never been the popular sort, so it struck him as odd when Slughorn called him into his office one afternoon.

“I’ve seen you with Malfoy and the others. Don’t think I go blissfully unaware of dark magic in my House. I’ve talked to the Headmaster about this, and he agrees with me that it is not our place to deny anyone an education without evidence of criminality. However,” he looked over the top of his whiskey glass at Snape, “I did not expect you to take an interest.”

“Sir, it’s not like that. I’m keeping tabs—”

“You are a brilliant student, Mr. Snape, one of my all time best potions makers. Trust me when I say, you’ll do better than to side step your talent for something beneath you.”

“With respect, Professor. I do not trust the faculty to do enough when it comes to handling accidental Death Eaters.”

Slughorn grimaced, and patted a napkin to his mouth. 

After a moment of contemplation, he replied. “You have the ability to do what is right, Severus. You must use it.”

With the raise of a hand, Severus was dismissed. He departed briskly, furious at his Head’s disappointment of him, at his willful misunderstanding.

To think he would stupidly leap into such an infamous hateful group without another agenda? Silly old bastard. 

I am the Half-Blood Prince.

\---

What seemed mere minutes later, the Volkswagen was pulling onto a gravel driveway, which led to a thatch-roofed cottage. It was just a dull brown color and just one story, accented by a chalky blue door. A towering oak stood behind it, partially blocking out the golden glow of early evening.

“Alrighty!” Mrs. Lupin chirped as they piled out of the van. 

James and Lyall began unloading the trunk. Sirius made to join them, but Remus ushered him up the path, grinning. 

“It’s more muggle than witch house, I’m afraid. Please come in,” she said, opening the door to the sound of a chime.

The living room was small, crowded by a couple of faded armchairs on either side of a glass coffee table. A fire cracked on the wall to the left of a round window. 

As they moved through to the kitchen, which had a dark-washed island and several second-hand stools, Remus gestured to a heavy barn-style door. “Come see the backyard before anything else.”

With some straining, Sirius pulled it open. 

And there it was, propped up on the concrete beside a table and chairs. 

The motorbike.

James, Remus, and Mr. Lupin watched as the dark orphan paused, took a step, and then approached it, running his hands along the wheel, the shiny black body. 

Finally, he looked back at them all, shaking his head with a laugh. “You sneaky bastards, you really did it.”

James bounded up beside him and started taking it in also. Mr. Lupin joined them, pointing out the odometer and nighttime features. “There’s an adjustable side car expansion spell that you won’t see on the new models. Not as aerodynamic, but then, I expect you boys will make use of it.”

Sirius seemed happier than Remus had ever seen him, at least recently. Beside the door, Mrs. Lupin put a hand on Remus’ back. He leaned lightly back against it, feeling the calm of home wash over him. They had always understood each other on a nonverbal level. 

The other three were saying something else, and then Sirius was running by on the way to unearth his key from the luggage. 

“Really hit the nail on the head,” James winked at them. He turned to Mrs. Lupin. “Thanks again for storing it here.”

The kindly witch shook her head. “Whatever we can do to support you lot, it’s no big deal.”

In a flash, Sirius was back with the key. He mounted the bike, stuck it in the ignition and gleefully asked, “ready?”

“Hang on,” James said, climbing into the sidecar. “Okay.”

They took off, up, up, up over the neighboring fields, the tin roofed barns, until they became a speck in the maroon sky. 

“Now we cross our fingers they don’t crash into any owls,” Lyall said. 

“Right.” Remus grinned. 

“It’s so good to see you, son.” Lyall hugged him. 

\---

High above England, Sirius let out a battle cry.

“FUCK IT ALL!”

James cackled, extending an arm out so it trailed through the air. “This is BRILLIANT!”

They spun through a thin layer of clouds, and the temperature dropped. Chilled, Sirius maneuvered the bike lower. It shuttered a little but its trajectory remained straight. 

Stars began to appear.  


By the time James and Sirius were back, Mrs. Lupin was serving dinner. The whole cottage had the aroma of garlic beef stew. 

“Good to see you survived,” Remus told them. 

James took off his coat, which he hung over the back of a chair. “Just barely.”

“Prongs exaggerates,” Sirius said, wild-eyed and windswept.

“I wish Peter was here,” Remus said.

“He’s probably polishing the family silver right now.”

“Very civil of you, Sirius.”

“Honestly! I wish he’d just tell his parents ‘no’ sometimes.”

Remus shrugged. “It’s not our job to judge him.”

“He’d rather please them than hang out with us,” Sirius muttered quietly.

James elbowed him under the table. 

Mr. Lupin passed around a platter of rolls, which each of them took graciously. “He could be under a lot of pressure, your friend.”

“He took Lily Evans to the ball,” Remus said.

“It’s fine, I’m not bothered anymore,” James sighed. “He’s always been a bit daft.”

“Desperate, more like it,” Sirius interjected. “You remember that time he borrowed the invisibility cloak to spy on the girls.”

“So?”

“He always wants to impress people, no matter who they are.”

“Sirius.” Remus put down his cup. “He’s our friend.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty frustrated with the way things are going,” Mrs. Lupin said. 

“Something like that,” James replied, turning to her. “This is delicious by the way.”

She blushed, and thanked him. “Wherever did that cloak end up, anyway? I’ve only ever read about them, you know. You said it was very well-made, Remus.”

“The Shrieking Shack. Sniv—I mean Snape was looking for it.”

“I told Sirius it was dumb to put itching powder in his robes.”

“If you hadn’t stubbed your toe--” 

“He only thinks it exists,” James said. “He hasn’t any real proof.”

“It’s a wonder you lot don’t get in trouble more often”, Mr. Lupin said, chuckling. “In my day, before Dumbledore was Headmaster, they hung students by their thumbs in detention.”

Sirius scoffed, and Remus mumbled, “Medieval.”

After dinner, Mrs. Lupin brought out a huge chocolate cake with a candle for Sirius. “Happy belated birthday.”

He blew it out, Mr. Lupin served it with a levitating charm, and they dug in. Then it was bedtime. 

James and Sirius took up one loveseat each, and Remus retired to his room. It had remained unchanged since his first year at Hogwarts. 

Soft yellow wallpaper with white aspen trees lined his walls. Several bookcases stood on one side of the room, across from the bed. Remus sat down on it now, thinking back to years of gazing out the window from this very spot, as summer turned to fall.

Time was passing faster than he wanted it to. These were the golden days, he suspected. How much longer could they go, running around the castle, the extent of their worries studying?

For the first time that year, Remus felt a clutching nostalgia. 

The week was up before they knew it. A couple of snowball fights, enchanted snowmen, and rounds muggle card games later, James, Remus and Sirius were back at Kings Cross station.

“Please be careful, and send us an owl if you need anything at all,” Mrs. Lupin said, bundling up Remus’ scarf around his neck. 

“It was so good to meet you,” Mr. Lupin added, moving to embrace Sirius, who flinched before realizing what was going on.

“You too,” James replied warmly, hugging him as well. 

“And before I forget, these are for you and Peter.” Mrs. Lupin passed them a basket of shortbread cookies. 

“I love you,” Remus told them. “And thanks.”

“Do well on your O.W.L.s!”

\---

Peter sat up as his friends entered the Great Hall. It was December 29, two days until New Years. They were talking raptly to each other, and failed to notice him until he stood. “Glad you’re back! How was break?” he asked. 

They told him about the motorcycle, some argument James and Sirius had had about the rules of Slap Jack, and immediately everything was how it had always been. Peter laughed and nodded at the story, simultaneously cheered and afraid.

They seemed so happy without him. 

“Mum’s starting to harvest chard and broccoli from the greenhouse,” Remus was saying. “You should have been there to see it.”

“I’m chuffed I got back in time to see Lily Evans in a sweater. Just stunning. How’d your break go?” James asked Peter. 

“You know, the usual. Dad’s relatives were over from Belfast. They drank too much.” He shrugged. “And then Mum got mad and made it about her.”

“God, look who’s back,” Sirius interrupted then, nodding toward a crowd of Slytherins, among them, Lucius Malfoy, Regulus and Bellatrix Black. Curiously, Snape was there too, beside Magnum Goyle. 

“Family, am I right?” Peter said. Sirius did not respond. 

There was something different about Snape, although none of them could pinpoint it. His hair was longer, sure, and just as oily as ever, but his eyes…his eyes were content for once.

Goyle clapped him on the back, as Lucius and Bellatrix laughed. Snape smiled too, a cold, calculated and tight-lipped grin. Lou Zabini shot him a meaningful look.

“Is it just me,” James started, “Or is Snivelus in on something?”

“I think they’re all in on something,” Remus said.

“Death Eaters,” Sirius hissed. It sounded like a curse. 

James flicked his wand under the table. Several yards away, Snape stumbled and fell. 

Peter snickered.

\--- 

“That’s a very serious accusation, Mr. Black.”

Professor McGonagall was tapping her wand on her desk, more impatient than purposeful. After a moment of thinking she narrowed her eyes and sat back in her chair. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t say that about my own family if it weren’t true.”

“They’re up to something,” James supplemented. 

“I have already spoken to Professor Slughorn on this matter. He and Dumbledore agree that without proof we have no reason to restrict the rights of any student. Furthermore,” she cleared her throat, “we have found no indication of external coercion towards dark magic.”

“The problem is already inside Hogwarts. It’s only a matter of time before muggleborns are harmed here, too. It’s obvious, don’t you see?”

“Mr. Potter. You will speak politely to your Head of House or you will leave this meeting.”

“Well, pardon me. But You Know Who—”

“We have, however, heard of discriminatory comments directed at Slytherin students, stereotyping the entire house as his followers. This is inappropriate, not to mention inaccurate.”

Sirius put down a hand on her desk. He leaned forward. “Minerva,” he said boldly.

Her eyes immediately widened at the sound of her name. Her cheeks flushed. 

“We know that You Know Who’s supporters are making muggle families disappear. Killing them, even. We also know Slytherin house is founded on a legacy of purebloods that believe muggleborns are inferior. Don’t tell me you don’t see the connection.”

There was a tense silence. 

Then McGonagall collected herself and stood, taller than the both of them. “Without evidence, there is nothing to be done. You are both excused.”

\---

“I swear to Merlin, if hell breaks open, I’m becoming an Auror,” James was saying that evening beside the Gryffindor fireplace. 

“I hear the department of Magical Law Enforcement is hiring more than ever right now,” Frank said, his hand in Alice’s. “My dad’s been trying to apply, actually. He has an interview this week.”

“I feel like it’s becoming a new normal. People are even calling muggle neighborhoods ‘mudslide zones,’ like Mud…you know,” Alice said, wiping a curly strand of hair from her face.

“That’s messed up.” 

“Is your family okay?” Remus asked Lily. 

“As far as I know,” she said rather quietly. 

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…” James offered. 

Lily looked at him in surprise. He was serious. 

“Thanks,” she said finally, and meant it. 

Heart pounding, he nodded. “Anytime.”

By the time most folks had gone to bed, it was nearly midnight. Lily was in a soft blue sweater, reading her book, Quidditch Through the Ages, by firelight. 

James put down his own book, something or other for Potions class, and sat beside her on the sofa. 

She looked up. 

“E-excuse me,” he said, a bit late. 

Her eyes were all the colors of trees in full summertime. They took his breath away and for a moment he forgot entirely why he was there. 

“What do you want, Potter?”

“I-uh, you…I didn’t mean to be a bother at the Yule Ball. I just…I thought maybe you were hoping I’d keep asking…”

On the other side of the castle, the clock struck midnight. It was 1976. 

“Clearly you didn’t want to go with me. So…I’m sorry.”

“Am I actually witnessing an apology from James Potter? The world must be ending. What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one.” He looked at his feet in their striped red and gold socks.

She said nothing for a minute. 

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. I accept your apology. Happy New Years. I’m heading to bed.” She rose from the couch, long hair sweeping down her back in copper waves. He watched her retreating back as she climbed the stairs to the dormitories. 

“Happy New Years,” he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Mid January, 1976

Remus was dealing with his little furry problem again, so the other three went to breakfast without him, throwing suspicious glances at the Slytherin table every now and then. 

Severus Snape continued to seem rather pleased with himself. He intently participated in discussions instead of sulking, even to the point of smiling openly. It was exceptionally unnerving. 

Meanwhile, Lily joined them at the table today, sitting beside James. 

Peter and Sirius exchanged meaningful glances at this new development, while James remained uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Pass the butter,” she told him.

Not wanting to scare her off, he did as he was told. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Evans.” Surely he’d slipped into a parallel universe. That or the house elves in the kitchens had doctored his pumpkin juice. 

“So, Peter,” Sirius started, attempting to distract from James’ awkwardness. “What’s the odds Moony will let us study with him for our O.W.L.s if we ask really nicely?”

Peter shrugged. “I think maybe you should ask him, Sirius. You have the best chance.”

Sirius paused. “My dear friend, I don’t think I quite catch your drift.”

Peter rolled his eyes at James, the corners of whose mouth twitched in a hesitant smile. 

Beside him, Lily continued eating her yams and turkey. 

“You should definitely ask him, Sirius,” James said agreeably. 

Sirius’ brow furrowed. “I guess I will.”

“Anyone have an extra napkin?” Lily asked, and James dove over Peter to get one to her. Over at the neighboring table, someone saw and snickered. 

“Still on for trying to find the Chamber of Secrets tomorrow?” Sirius asked. 

“Sure,” James answered. 

“Wait, when was that planned?”

“Months ago, Peter.”

Peter’s mouth hung open. “You never told me about that. Am I invited, or are you all going without me?”

“Sure,” James said again, not really listening. 

Peter bowed his head. His face burned but he didn’t have the words to express why. 

“You okay?” Lily asked him. 

He rose to leave, reddened with shame. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” 

“What’s his deal?” 

“You ought to apologize,” Lily suggested to James. 

“Why? What have I done?”

Sirius put his face in his hands. 

As a small child, Peter used to play a certain game. Walking at the back of a group of peers, he would stop and watch to see how long it took for them to notice he wasn’t with them. 

Most of the time they would walk and walk. 

He would feel like a ghost then. He felt like one now. Perhaps he really was. 

Inessential. 

Inessential.

He felt a knot start to form where his heart should be. 

Nightfall finally came. Clouds drifted like silk over the castle, slow-moving in the freezing air. 

Remus sat in the middle of the single threadbare rug in the Shrieking Shack, shivering as he removed his robes. Soon the black, red and gold Gryffindor sweater, his trousers and socks joined them in a heap, too valuable to transform in.

The shack was not well insulated. He could see his breath in the air before him, tensing against the onslaught of chilled air. 

His hair stood erect, goose bumps spreading across his body like ink in water. It would only be from cold for so much longer. 

His restless eyes skirted around the room to the entrance under the willow, checking, yet again, to ensure all the blinds were drawn on the single-pane windows. 

It began to snow; Remus could hear it. It the quality of sound outside changed as near-imperceptible flakes collided with the frozen earth. 

New scents suddenly got stronger. He heard footfalls…then animal steps. They rustled down the blackness of the tunnel.

“S-stay back!” Remus managed to shout, his voice raw, already changing.

The spasms began in earnest then, and he forgot to feel embarrassed they were here, watching him. Pain blinded him, white-hot, melting away any remnants of human thought. He heard screaming.

And then the idea of self faded too.

But they did not, the patchy rat, the big black dog, and the stag. They smelled very much the same. 

In hindsight Lupin would try to remember exactly the sensation he felt as they gathered around him, settled down in the drafty bleak dark. What he suffered was a low-level pain, curbed strangely by their presences. Like swimming between dream state and consciousness. 

The harsh animal urge to cause destruction was only a fever that hummed in the background. 

The dog looked steadily upon the werewolf, his gaze unflinching. The stag flipped his magnificent head, antlers making a swoosh sound beside Sirius. The rat alone crawled over to Remus, sat between his two great paws. 

Sirius growled to him. 

The wolf bowed his head and sniffed the rat. Peter squeaked and curled tighter into a ball. Remus soon lost interest and huffed a sigh. 

They remained like that for a long time. 

\---

James, Sirius and Peter gave Remus privacy around dawn to revert to his human shape. It always took a bit longer than his human-to-wolf transformation, but was equally agonizing. 

The next thing Remus remembered was lying in the fetal position and the feeling of hair retracting into his pores. His bones cracked as they shrunk, his spine curling in like a crushed soda can. The room spun and pinprick lights danced in his vision. 

It hurt to breathe.

Peter scampered back inside at the half-hour mark and stopped at his side, whiskers twitching. Remus’ cheeks were stained in dust and tears. 

Assured, the rat shape rose into that of a man. 

“It’s safe now. Come help me with him,” he called over his shoulder. 

A bleary-eyed James and Sirius scrambled down the tunnel. Together, they helped Peter pull Remus to his feet. 

“He can’t stand—here,” Sirius said, ducking beneath one of his friend’s arms. “James—get the other side.”

James did, and Peter collected the clothes piled nearby, pausing to feel for the feather-light cloth of the invisibility cloak. There it was, in the corner where they had left it. He handed it over along with Remus’ winter coat.

Remus moaned something. 

“Say that again, mate,” James muttered. 

“M—be sick” was all the other could manage, and then he bent over and immediately vomited. “S-sorry,” he whispered, eyes half-shut.

“We’re washable, don’t worry,” Sirius chuckled. 

Peter led the way back up, prodding the knot in the Whomping Willow to still its movement so the other three could get safely out of range. 

It was barely light out, the faint orange of morning bouncing off the snow. Smoke rose from Hagrid’s cabin, and farther away, the dark spires of trees in the Forbidden Forest framed the grounds. 

“We’ve got to get back before someone sees us,” James said quietly. Still holding Remus, up, he pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag. “C’mon.”

Luckily, Filch was nowhere to be found. 

The castle was eerily quiet, lit only by torches and occasional windows, which cast pools of light upon the floor. The portraits snored soundly in their gilt frames as the four of them crept along hallways to Gryffindor tower. 

They were turning the last corner and into sight of the Fat Lady, when Severus Snape stepped out of the shadows and raised his wand. 

“I know you’re there, even if I can’t see you,” he said in that oily voice. “Brought your friends this time, coward?”

They froze.

“You’re telling tales about my house again, Potter. Awfully quick to report rule-breaking when it seems to be all you do. You’re as bad as that half-breed freak and blood-traitor you hang out with.” 

Sirius watched James grit his teeth, and quickly stepped on his foot. It’s not worth it, he mouthed. Peter, rat-shaped, squirmed in his pocket.

“I bet you’re lying to Lily, too.” Snape took a step forward, chin out. “She’s a smart girl, you know. It’s only a matter of time before she figures out what you really are: a spoiled bitch, good-for-nothing shell of a person—”

“Diffindo!” James whispered. 

There was a flash, and Snape fell forward into a crumpled heap, clutching his face. 

They stepped around him, tapped the portrait of the Fat Lady, and gave the password. It wasn’t until the door had swung closed behind them that Sirius said, “Bloody fucking hell, if he didn’t believe in the cloak before—”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Remus’ voice cut through the quiet of the common room, weak as he was. Sirius lowered him into an armchair. 

James shook his head, smiling madly. His face was flushed as excitement and fury raced through his veins. “He deserved it,” he said breathily. 

A sniggering Peter sprung from Sirius’ pocket and landed on two human feet. “I thought we were goners for sure!” he exclaimed, hands on his heart. 

“Nearly. We should have brought the Map with us!”

“Did you see his nose, James? You—you hexed it clean off.” Remus’ expression was darker than they had seen it in a long time. 

Peter stopped laughing. Sirius looked from Remus to James. “Shit,” he said. 

James shrugged. “He deserved it.” 

“No,” Remus murmured. “We must be better than that.”

“You’re tired. Get some sleep,” Sirius told James. The latter narrowed his eyes in disbelief at his friend, spun on his heel and started up the stairs to the dormitories. 

Peter started to follow him. “Snivelus was being really rude,” he piped up, and continued on. 

“He was,” Sirius agreed, eyes not leaving Remus. 

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” the latter sighed. 

Sirius pulled a thickly knit blanket from one of the side tables, and shrouded his friend in it. Remus groaned a bit from the weight, managing a quiet thanks. 

You’re the best of us, Sirius thought. He realized he must have said it aloud however, because the tip of a smile curved Remus’ lips. 

“I doubt that,” he said. 

Sirius, for once, was caught off-guard. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words failed him. Remus had such a soft look in his eyes.

“Go to sleep, Padfoot,” he whispered. 

“Alright. Good night, then.” Sirius walked away.

Remus, exhausted but sleepless, watched the shadows high above him fade to day.

“It’s lucky Professor Slughorn is an early riser, or Snape might not have run into anyone until later,” Frank was saying over lunch. 

“Sounds like he won’t say who did it, but he definitely knows,” Alice added beside him. She stroked the head of her brown tabby cat, which sat upon the bench on their side of the table. “Point of pride, maybe?”

“What was he even doing, do you think?” Peter asked them, careful not to look at James’ face. 

Frank shrugged. “I heard he was spying on Gryffindor House, trying to get information on muggleborns. It’s sketchy as hell.”

“Yeah,” Alice agreed, “But who takes off someone’s nose? That’s just--” she shuddered. “I mean he’s not even popular. Why bother?”

“You can bet the Slytherins are going to want revenge. I would avoid being around them if I can help it.”

“A house war?” 

“I reckon he’ll try to weaponize it. Not that it wasn’t a weapon before,” Sirius said. He smirked. “I bet when Madam Pomfrey’s done with him, it’ll be even more bulbous.”

James tried not to choke on his orange juice. He kicked Sirius under the table, smirking also. 

“House rivalries, I understand. But an attack…it’s enough to put you on edge.”

Lily joined them, sitting next to Remus. “What’s happened?” She asked.

James hurriedly stuffed a sandwich into his mouth.

“Snape got his nose chopped off,” Peter told her.

A fork clattered to the floor. 

“Is he okay?” She demanded, looking from face to face. 

“He’ll be fine,” Sirius said, stretching. “Seems like he was—forgive the expression—poking his nose around places it didn’t belong.”

Lily looked over to the Slytherin table. Bellatrix Black returned her stare, irises undifferentiated from the black pits of her pupils. 

Mudblood, Bellatrix mouthed. 

Lily looked away.

“Have something to eat,” Remus invited, pushing a plate of fruit towards her. His eyes were deeply shadowed.

“I will. Are you okay?” She asked him.

“Remus has been under the weather,” James said quickly. 

Remus smiled. “Not my favorite season.”

She said nothing to this, merely piled her plate full. Across the table, Alice watched her carefully. 

“How did you exam go?”

“You had an exam?” James asked, slow on the uptake.

Lily looked up. “Ancient Runes? Awful. But there are other things to focus on now.” She speared a strawberry. “Dad has been wondering whether it’s best for me to come home over the summer, what with everything going on. He doesn’t really understand it.”

“The muggle news is starting to catch onto things,” Remus affirmed.

“Well, if you decide not to go home, I’m sure you could hang out with us,” James said rather eagerly. 

Lily shook her head. “I’m flattered, Potter. But I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

James fell silent, and Peter chuckled to himself.

“You can stay with me,” Alice told her, placing a hand over Lily’s. 

“Thanks, Al.” 

“Of course, my dear.”

\---

James opened his textbook to the page Professor Slughorn had assigned. It featured a rough sketch of a recipe labeled Draught of Peace, with several long passages about its history and uses. 

At the bottom of the page someone had written, in black spiky handwriting:

I know Moony is more than a nickname.

His heart sank. 

Someone else knew. Someone with access to the Potions classroom, someone clever enough to have done the math and known he, James, would be back late the night of the full moon in support of his friend. And his impulsive attack had confirmed it.

Of course, only one person came to mind.

It wasn’t just his own pride on the line anymore, James knew. That was the worst part. 

Snape had the power to undo it all.


	6. Chapter 6

May, 1976.

“Levicorpus,” James whispered.

Spring had come and gone. Remus, to no one’s surprise, scored the best out of the group on his O.W.L.s, tailed by Sirius, James and Peter respectively. The only interruption during their exam was when Snape’s chair legs had snapped under him. Remus had shot James a dirty look. James blinked at him innocently.

They had managed nearly four months without provoking the young Slytherin, who had become leaner, more reserved and if possible, more smug. His nose, now restored in order with the rest of his face, was still hooked. He would watch James during meals. Moreover, whole pages started missing from James’ textbooks. 

Even more menacingly, Severus Snape also roamed the school grounds after dark, with Lucius Malfoy and another two or three Slytherin purebloods. When James had pointed at the Map to show the others this, Sirius had told him to leave it alone. 

He had bit his tongue…

But no longer.

It was nearly early summertime the day they sat in the shade of the beech tree by the Black Lake. Sirius’ arm hung easily over Remus’ shoulders. Peter was smiling again.

And then Snape showed up. 

Now his cloaked figure rose high into the air, mouth open, as if it were crying out. No sound escaped. A white-hot vindictive glee rose in the back of James’ throat, and he laughed. It barely sounded like him. 

His forehead was bleeding from where Snivelus’ hex had hit him, but that was no matter. His eyes were wild, but the hand that held his wand was steady.

“James—” Remus tried, but Sirius cut him off, pacing forward, his wand out. 

Snape twisted perversely in the air, greasy black hair swaying like an eerie halo. James flicked his wand and Snape flipped upside down, robes flying up over his head. The small crowd that had gathered beneath stood and stared, faces both eager and grim. 

“STOP IT!” Someone was yelling, and it took James a second to realize it was Lily Evans, pushing through to the front. Her vivid green eyes were cold.

“Let him down, Potter,” she said, and jabbed him in the chest. To his surprise, he released Snape, who crumbled to the dirt. It took a moment for him to get to his feet again, backing away and breathing hard. A dim pink stained his ivory cheeks. 

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” he spat.

Lily blinked.

“Shut your dirty mouth!” Sirius barked, stepping forward. Snape flinched away, but not before James raised his wand again, and tossed him back into the air. 

James looked to Lily for approval, but she had turned away from him, from all of them, and had walked away.

“C’mon, Remus. I’m sorry—”

“I am tired of you acting like an idiot, Prongs.”

“He got what was coming to him,” Sirius growled.

“Quite a bit more than that,” Lupin corrected bitterly. “You’re lucky I have the decency to confront you myself instead of reporting this directly to the teachers.”

“But Remus,” Peter piped up, “You know it would come to this eventually. Plus we were bored—”

Remus glowered at him. Peter shrunk into rat form and climbed up James’ trouser leg into his robes pocket. 

“For once he’s right.” Sirius wore a petulant expression. “What’s done is done. I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are. You saw the Dark Mark on his arm?”

“I did,” Remus admitted curtly.

“So it’s okay now.”

“We’re finally even with him, you mean?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. 

Remus looked from him to James and sighed. “He referred to me as ‘half-breed,’ remember? I’m not that oblivious.”

It was their turn to exchange guilty glances, because he knew. Of course, he knew. Remus had been dealing with werewolf stigma all his life, from dirty looks to neighbors crossing the street to avoid him. 

James finally bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Moony,” he said again.

Remus huffed, striding past him in the direction of the common room door. “Keep working on it.”

Peter scrambled up James’ front and perched on his shoulder. 

“I’ll go talk to him,” Sirius muttered.

The big black dog found Remus in the Astrology tower a couple hours later, sitting against a pillar, gazing through a window at the gathering darkness. It padded over quietly, and settled down beside him.

“You certainly smell like a dog, Padfoot.”

He raised a hand to the dark furry head, which pressed up to receive the pat, tail wagging slowly.

“I’m just so tired,” Remus said finally. 

The dog leaned against him, soft and warm.

The indigo hills turned to a deep cerulean-black. The moon came out, pale as a fingernail. At some point the torches sputtered to life, casting flickering shadows.

Remus turned to Sirius, now a young man. The transformation was so quiet, he hadn’t noticed nor heard. A thread of jealousy pulled at his heart for a second, then released.

“Why didn’t you tell me Snape figured it out?” He asked at last.

Sirius did not meet his eyes, his own glued to the glass. “Less to worry about.”

“For me? Or for you?”

He frowned in surprise, and then collected himself. “I wanted to protect you from the stress of it, I suppose.”

“The stress. I see.”

“You’re always studying, trying to look out for the rest of us, taking on more than any sane person, you know…”

“I think it’s more of a matter of when, rather than if people find out about me.”

Sirius said nothing to this, just leaned back on his hands. His raven hair fell around his shoulders. 

“What will you do then? If I have to leave.”

“I’m not keen on that possibility.”

“If Snape says something, parents will complain—”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

Remus fell silent, caught off guard by this sentiment. 

“And maybe James will too. He really needs us.” Once the words were said, Sirius realized just how true they were.

“Stubborn twat.” Remus grinned. 

Mindlessly, Sirius extended his hand to Remus, who took it. 

He had never been good at this, had never been able to say the right words. Sure, fire whiskey could help at times. But he wanted to mention this, right here and make it real. Remus’ freckles were a constellation beneath his eyes.

Sirius Black had forgotten what it felt like to be so soft inside. 

“Remus…” He said it like the answer to a question.

“I know,” Remus said quietly. “I shouldn’t be so angry with him. He’s just…” 

He felt a hand on his chin, lifting his head up to meet Sirius’ eyes.

Whatever words Remus was going to say then were absolutely abandoned. He jerked away, feeling a hot rush of embarrassment. “W-what…” He took a breath. 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Sirius winked.

Something clicked in Remus’ brain. He tried to smile. 

“Very funny, Pads.” 

Sirius opened his mouth to say something—correct him perhaps—and then closed it without a word.

They walked back a good while later, hoping to rejoin the others, but Peter and James had left the common room chairs cold. 

It was close to one in the morning based on the ornate clock in the corner. 

“I’ve got classes early in the morning,” Remus said. 

Sirius nodded politely. 

“Good night.”

“Night, Moony.”

\--- 

Before Peter knew it, Frank was shaking him awake.

“Glad I found you! Mate, you’ve got to come to the great hall right now. Dumbledore is having an assembly.”

Peter blinked, bleary-eyed. “What time is it?”

“Seven. Seriously, come quick. Everyone else has already gone.” 

It was true. His was the only occupied four-poster bed, the only one whose occupant had been left unaware. Remus was their prefect. Where was he? 

Refusing the onrush of feelings he couldn’t quite identify, Peter pulled on a scarlet lounging robe and slippers, and followed Frank through the castle. 

Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, was skulking at the entrance to the hall when they arrived. Peter had always had the sneaking suspicion she wasn’t a true cat. 

She meowed in disapproval as they approached, flicking a pale brown bottlebrush tail. 

Everyone was already sitting, though no food was on the tables per usual. Students whispered to each other, even between houses, and beside the high table was a marvelously carved wooden chair. 

Harold Minchum sat upon it, his considerable moustache twitching to make him look like a walrus. 

Dumbledore was clearing his throat as Peter sat at the Gryffindor table beside Frank and Alice. He noticed Lily Evans several students down, looking at her hands.

A hush fell over the hall. 

“Students—Teachers, Minister,” he bowed his head in Minchum’s direction. “It is my reluctant duty to inform you all of some necessary changes here at Hogwarts. Many of you know through the press that You Know Who has been active in Western Europe for several months now, gathering an increasing number of followers. His threat now focuses exclusively on Britain. 

“While it is against certain governing wishes, I must tell you: Muggle families and muggleborns alike are being systematically hunted. Mr. Minchum informed me that this morning, Death Eaters rather publically killed a graduate of Hogwarts School and his family. The papers may try to conceal this fact.

“Per security regulations rolled out by the Ministry of Magic, I have agreed to notify every student’s parent or guardian of the risk we face.”

Peter could hear the room breathing.

“It was not thirty years ago that we had to close due to unfortunate circumstances at Hogwarts.”

“The Chamber,” James muttered to Sirius. 

“We must observe similar caution now. It is in the best interests of the students that Hogwarts reinforce all necessary magical protections. We will end the semester early, next week, but completing homework is still expected of you. Expect an owl late August confirming the school’s reopening. That will be all.” 

A blank disquiet overtook the room. 

“Merlin’s sake—”

“Who was killed, I wonder?”

“…Being home again.”

“Doesn’t seem like Dumbledore wanted to go through with this,” Remus said. “The Minister himself had to be here.”

“Weird,” Peter muttered.

“Glad you made it,” Alice said to him.

He shrugged.

“Feel free to spend the summer, Sirius,” James invited. 

“Same here,” Remus added. There passed an interesting though unreadable sort of look between the two of them. 

“We’ll still have bleedin’ homework, though.”

“Better that than waiting around for Slytherins to get brave.”

Sirius grinned at this. His eyes shifted from James and Frank to notice Peter for the first time. “Slept well, did we?”

Peter looked him in the face. Sirius was vivid, beautiful, and hard-edged. 

“You didn’t want to bring me along?”

A guarded look crossed his friend’s face then. 

James interrupted then, saying more cheerfully, “One more week of school! Let’s eat, chaps.” 

Peter hadn’t bothered to watch the food appear before them, the lines of casserole, sweet buns, bacon and eggs, Yorkshire pudding, even yogurt. His eyes burned with tears, which he blinked away. 

He felt so stupid to hope for something else. Of course it was sudden, of course his friends were preoccupied with the severity of things and had entirely forgotten him. Even Remus, who was a prefect, and should be in charge of keeping his house in check. Even James, whose dumb ideas Peter always supported.

He thought again about what Lily had said at the Yule Ball. 

He thought about how relieved his mother would be to see him, to put him to work as her confidant. He thought about having to read alone in his room, while his father drank and decided to stay in the marriage so as not to hurt her feelings. 

He thought about his three best friends hanging out all summer without him. Not even on purpose, just because he had become so entirely irrelevant.

Later he would not be able to recall what he ate. He tasted nothing at all. 

\---

It was cold in the dormitory as Lily wrote home to her parents. 

The letter wasn’t altogether honest, even personal. She merely gave them the facts about what the Headmaster had said. It would be better if they knew nothing of blood purity. It would be better if they knew nothing about how alone she felt. And the last thing she wanted was Petunia rubbing it in. 

Alice had been spending a lot of time with Frank these days. James had proven himself once again to be a self-absorbed git. For some reason Lupin still hung out with him. 

And Severus…

She thought about the muggle radio station they grew up making fun of together. Its songs were far too sappy and predictable. Severus would sing them off-kilter and out of tune on purpose, and sometimes in his best opera impression. 

As a child she would laugh and laugh at him, more often than not joining in. 

“All you need is love! Ba da da da da. All you need is LOVE--”

Listening to those songs now made her want to cry and vomit at the same time. What had happened to the two of them? 

Severus used to sit with her when she was upset, about a new bruise, about her parents fighting, or whatever silly thing had seemed so important. He never had to say anything to make her feel better.

Curled beside the window, arms wrapped around knees, she wondered when his silence had become unfamiliar. Unreadable. Why was it that when people changed, it was usually for the worse?

“Love is all you need….”

She sealed the envelope and got up for a scarf. The late afternoon light leaked dull yellow through the window.

Eventually she found it: a wooly purple thing Rubeus Hagrid had lent her at least a year or two ago. Although it was scratchy, its weight was comforting. It smelled of rock cakes, a little burnt, a little bit like chocolate.

It wasn’t yet dark, so she decided to return it right away. Hagrid always liked her company. Maybe she would know what to do about Snape.

\---

“Oh, Lily! Been so long. C’mere,” the half-giant bellowed. She had a bunch of delicate white flowers tucked behind one ear and wore a red polka-dot apron. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

Once she released Lily from the crushing hug, the latter put down a newspaper, headed for a small circle of motley chairs and settled upon a bright purple stool. 

“I’ve just brewed a bit o’ tea. Help yerself to sugar.” 

With gratitude, she accepted the steaming quart-sized mug. Hagrid poured herself a brandy and fell back into an enormous leather armchair. Lily was surprised when it took her weight, squeaking as she rocked back in it. 

“Now, m’dear. What can I do fer yer? Not feelin’ too overwhelmed, I hope?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard we’re shutting down early because of You Know Who.” She nodded. 

“Well, it’s…it’s not just about that. See, I have—had a friend in Slytherin. We’re not really friends now.” Lily tried to explain the situation, her voice catching in her throat. 

Hagrid waited patiently as she chose the right words. 

“I’m just so…so tired of being called a mudblood,” she whispered. A tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it off. Her shoulders trembled with fury.

“The Syltherins been callin’ yer that?”

She nodded, and took a sip of the tea. Chamomile.

“These are dark times, an’ I reckon they’ll be gettin’ worse ‘fore they get better. Don’t be too hard on yerself. Those barmy baboons don’t know integrity when they see it, an’ that’s their loss.”

“We’re just so divided.”

“Ay, I’d rather stand up fer ethics an’ decency, wouldn’t yer?” 

Lily sighed and nodded again. 

“’Atta girl, Lily.”

“Are you doing okay? You planning to stay here until we reopen?”

“Ay,” Hagrid said, scratching her bushy walnut beard. “It’s just me an’ a couple nifflers these days. Dumbledore asked me to watch ‘em. Been breedin’ and stealin’ ‘round the Ministry. A troublesome bunch, mind yer.” 

“The Ministry, or the nifflers?”

Hagrid took a long swig of drink, put it down, and opened a drawer in the side table. 

“They must keep you busy,” Lily added. 

Hagrid beamed, extending a hand with the contents of the drawer in her palm. There sat a single niffler pup, about the size of a guinea pig, its fur thick and fluffy. It blinked sleepily up at her. 

Lily felt herself smile too. 

The niffler peeped contentedly, curled up and went back to sleep in Hagrid’s palm.


	7. Chapter 7

James approached Peter after potions class. 

There was a shuffle of students replacing their textbooks on the shelf. James had long since given up storing his there, considering Snivelus had torn nearly half the pages from his copy. 

At the front of the room, Slughorn was clearing up bottles and powders, humming to himself. 

“Oy, Wormtail,” James hissed. 

Several desks over, Peter looked up, his face guarded. 

“Finally got to the love potions. You’ve been looking forward to them, right?”

Peter shrugged. 

“Look, mate…I know you’re bothered.”

“Oh, do you now? What tipped you off?”

“I just—I know you. Why not come out and say it?”

“Why do you bother keeping me around?”

His tone took James by surprise. He just stared for a moment. Gathering his thoughts, he tried again. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling left out. That’s not what I intend, ever. Look…”

It wasn’t enough. Peter pocketed his wand, and began to walk toward the door. 

James caught him. “Hey.” 

“You need me in order to make yourself look good, is that it? Sirius and Remus are too caught up in each other to remember me. You’ve got Quidditch. What do I have?”

James tried not to be offended by this. “You have us, mate.”

“No, you’ve got me.”

James shrugged. “Same difference.”

“It’s not.” Peter’s face was burning with discomfort. He wanted this to be over already. James continued to follow him down the hall.

“What with everything going on, we have to stick together,” he called.

“That’s your best reason?”

“C’mon, Pete!”

“Well why? You don’t need me.” How he wanted to shrink into rat form and find a hole to hide in. But there were still plenty of people around. 

“I trust you.”

Peter stopped. 

James ran into him, and fell backward with a thud. A couple of passing Ravenclaws snickered. 

Peter gritted his teeth, seeing the vulnerability on his friend’s face. After a moment of hesitation, he offered James his hand. 

“Come on, then. We’ve got to get to Transfiguration,” he said. 

\--- 

Professor McGonagall was as stern as ever today. Her thin lips seemed to stretch into a single line as her students attempted turning butterflies into chrysalises and then into caterpillars. 

Tate Tonks squinted over a butterfly. “Don’t be so stubborn,” they told it. 

Beside them, Alice was having more luck. Her chrysalis was shrinking and becoming translucent. A small green and black caterpillar could be seen inside. 

“How do you do that?”

“Try saying the spell slower.”

Sirius was twirling his wand a couple rows back, his gaze unfocused and foot tapping the empty air. The caterpillar on the desk munched on his notes cheerfully. Next to him Remus was eyeing his chrysalis, alarmingly blue in color. 

“Professor, what have I done wrong?” he asked resignedly. 

McGonagall strode up the row toward him, and paused at his desk. “Hmm…interesting.” She flicked her wand, and the shell shrunk into nothing, revealing in its place a fat blue caterpillar. 

“Not quite the species we’re going for, but still very well done, Mr. Lupin.” Her gaze fell on Sirius, who was still staring into the void. 

Tap! Went her wand on his desk. He sat up. 

“Refrain from daydreaming in class, please, Mr. Black. We all know you have quite the imagination.” Her voice was sharp as a knife, daring him to retort. 

He did not. Just waved his wand and sent the caterpillar back into a chrysalis and then a butterfly. “Look, Remus. She’s coming out,” he joked, sending the butterfly in and then out of its chrysalis shape. “‘I’m gay, everyone!’ Good for her.”

Behind them, James snorted. Remus rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve got mine to be a chrysalis, but it doesn’t want to change from there,” Peter complained. 

“There, there,” Sirius told him. “Maybe yours just likes the peace and quiet.”

“I relate, man,” James told the chrysalis. 

The four friends smiled, even Peter. Nearby, McGonagall let out a huff that could have been laughter. No one was sure. 

\---

It was the last day of school, per Dumbledore’s announcement.

Severus Snape sat in a straight-backed velvet chair beside the Slytherin fireplace. Green light spilled from lanterns around the room, reflecting dimly in the cold floor tiles. 

Lucius Malfoy sat across from him in the twin chair, a smile on his lips but vacant from his eyes. Beside him leaned Bellatrix Black, her bottom lip out and painted. Several other Death Eaters sat or stood around them. 

“…Silly of the Ministry, at least. It’s imbecilic, thinking a few extra spells will stop the Dark Lord. Dumbledore is only delaying the inevitable,” Severus was saying.

“You’re right, Snape. It merely extends the game. The mudbloods will find that out sooner or later.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “And then?”

Malfoy cocked his platinum head. “Once mudbloods are extinguished, if the Dark Lord so pleases, squibs will be next. And so it moves up the ranks until only the purest of us are left.”

Bellatrix giggled. “I would kill to meet him.”

“Wouldn’t we all?”

“What’s the word on Slughorn, Regulus?”

“Easy as ever. Suspicious by nature, but with the oblivious charm he’s under our total control. I slipped it to him that the other houses are unfairly discriminating against us.”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. That was clever.”

“Bunch of cowards.” Regulus Black cracked his wrists. 

“Well, I’ve been in touch with Fenrir Greyback,” Lou Zabini added. “Says things are gearing up on the outside. There are plenty werewolves fed up with the status quo enough to back us.”

“Grievances are helpful,” Malfoy said. 

The fireplace suddenly crackled, flames shivering into a pale green to match the rest of the room. In a moment, there was a whooshing sound, and a slim, scraggly-haired man emerged from it, dusting his robes of floo powder. 

“Karkaroff, nice of you to join us. How was the trip?” Zabini asked him. 

The man growled something noncommittal in answer, then plodded forward and leaned against Snape’s chair. 

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. “We’re planning the Dark Lord’s next movements. I’m glad to see it worked with your busy schedule after all.”

“Durmstrang has its demands.”

“Business as usual?” Snape asked him. 

“We don’t have any mudblood students to ‘worry’ about,” he said, smirking. “We’re not like your dear Headmaster. Why don’t you just kill him right here? Save us all some trouble.”

“You underestimate the old man’s skill and cleverness, Igor,” Bellatrix said sweetly. “Plus, Lord Voldemort wants to do it himself.”

A couple Death Eaters shuddered at the name, though in appreciation rather than fear. 

“Plans change, Bella,” Karkaroff muttered. 

“But not according to you,” Malfoy told him. “Now then, shall we discuss recruitment?”

\---

June 1976

After a bit of arguing and (not that much!) begging on James’ part, Peter agreed to join him, Remus and Sirius for a weekend at James’ house for his belated birthday. It mattered little that his and Remus’ actual birthdays had passed in March, as the Potters hadn’t been able to celebrate their only son in person yet. 

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were delighted at the opportunity to host, and brought out the family’s fine china, teacakes and—to much intrigue—a tower of dainty shots of alcohol, which sat as a centerpiece upon a mahogany table. 

“Your father and I have an important business meeting in London this evening, but do feel free to help yourself to anything in the house. Here’s a little something if you want to order out,” Ms. Potter told James, passing him a handful of galleons. 

“Thanks, mum.”

“Happy birthday, darling,” she said, and kissed his head. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Have a nice time,” Sirius told her. She beamed brightly at him, grabbed a purse and slipped out the door. 

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Remus accused him. 

Sirius turned, his gleaming eyes mocking innocence. “I can’t help what I am.”

“A moron, you mean?”

Sirius stuck out his tongue.

“Pass me a cider,” Peter told him. Sirius complied, handing one to each of them. James eased the lid off his with a pop.

Sirius stretched, the second button on his silk shirt coming undone as he reached for the enchanted radio upon the mantle. “Alright, boys. Time for some real education.” He flicked it on. Immediately, the crashing of drums filled the room, along with a smooth guitar riff that made them all pause. 

“Introducing...Led Zeppelin,” Sirius finished, sitting back down. 

“Christ, Padfoot, how do you find this stuff?”

Sirius shrugged. “All part of being a cultured bitch.” 

James choked on his butterbeer. 

“Aw, you good? Need some milk?” Peter teased. 

“I think we should play a game,” Sirius interrupted. “I’ve never seen Moony drunk, and I’m dying a little inside at the prospect.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Remus blushed. He looked to a broadly smiling James. 

“You gonna get us in trouble, Mr. Prefect?” 

Remus hit him playfully. Giggling, James scooted away on his ass. 

And so it began. 

"Truth or drink, Moony: out of all three of us, who would you fuck, marry or kill?”

Remus’ mouth dropped open. “I don’t want to kill any of you!”

Sirius elbowed James, exclaiming, “So he wants to bed and wed us!” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“It’ll be Sirius’ harem.”

“Let’s all four get married then.”

“That’s not a real answer. Drink!” 

Rolling his eyes, Remus drank.

“Okay, then, James. Tell us: who in this room is the fairest in the land?”

Sirius snorted. “Is that a real question?”

“Lily Evans, of course,” James answered. At their protest, he pulled out a wallet and showed them an enchanted Polaroid. Sirius groaned. 

“When did you take that?” Peter asked. 

“Probably during dinner at some point. Not entirely sure. Look how cute she’s holding the spoon.”

“Mate…”

“Fine. Hand me another then.” Peter passed him the bottle. “Wormtail next? Okay…” James thought for a moment. “What’s the weirdest thing that turns you on?”

Peter hesitated. “Well…elbows are…neat.”

Sirius clapped him on the back, hollering. “You like ‘em sharp and pointy, huh?”

“Hey, Peter,” James cackled, “How do you feel about the sorting hat?”

“‘Ooh, yes, get on top of me! Tickle me with that pointy thing—‘” 

Peter broke into laughter too as the others guffawed.

It was early evening when the radio charm finally wore off and it sputtered to silence. 

James lay sprawled on his back over the sofa, gesturing languidly with his hands as he described Lily Evans (“her curves are like the shoreline, or maybe a distant moon!”). Peter sat at his feet, nodding but not really listening.

Meanwhile, Remus sat on the Moroccan carpet beside Sirius, running his hands through the latter’s thick black hair. 

“S-so pretty…” he mouthed, “like you…”

Sirius’ brow furrowed. “What about my IQ?”

Remus broke into laughter, bending forward to rest his head on Sirius’ chest. “I said, ‘like you.’ You’re…” he shook his head. “We are hammered.”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s James who’s the lightweight.” Sirius pointed in the general direction of the couch. 

“Oh Peter, I could die happy if Lily Evans took me on just one real date. I’m serious.” 

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius whispered. Remus shot him a look.

James touched his heart sincerely, throwing his head back. “I’ll—I’ll serenade her, if that’s what it takes! Even though I’m no good at singing. You lot could be my band…”

Sirius chuckled to himself. As he looked to Moony, he had the sudden idea that the scars on that face were like lines in the desert. Though Remus was self-conscious of them, he couldn’t help but think they added something so honest. 

And how those lips moved when he spoke. “We should drink some water.” Remus’ voice made him burn under the collar, a burning that spread slowly down his throat like honey. 

“Sirius?”

“Water—right…” 

He stumbled over Peter’s feet on the way to the kitchen. On his way back with glass in hand, Remus asked if he was okay. 

“Honestly, Moony? You do things to me.”

Remus did not speak for a moment. 

“T-that’s not fair,” he managed at last. 

“Since when have I played fair?” Sirius demanded. 

Remus shook his head. “Shove off, you flirt.” 

Sirius laughed. 

\---

With a little help from his friends, James was able to regroup from his massive hangover the next morning. Remus rolled his eyes as the former exclaimed, “You ought to do this for a living, mate!”

“It is just like you to use magic to avoid consequences.”

“Do me next. I’m DYING here,” Sirius complained. 

Lupin rolled his eyes, then spun on his heel and exited the room. 

“What?” Sirius massaged his neck. “Moony!” 

“Oh no,” Peter giggled and fidgeted with the crinkly knot on one of James’ presents. 

“Can’t be his time of the month already,” James said. “Go apologize for whatever you’ve done, Sirius, before my folks get back. We’re having pork chops.”

\---

Remus sat on the stone bench in the backyard beside the vegetable patch. He looked out into the trees at the far side of the property, a hundred yards or so from Mrs. Potter’s cabbages. 

It looked like it might rain, smelled like it even, but that didn’t bother him. His stomach turned unpleasantly as he tried to breathe and slow his heart.

He clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. 

“Remus.” 

“F-fucks sake!” He hadn’t heard Sirius come up behind him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Remus let out a breath, and patted the bench beside him. Sirius joined him.

“Seems like it should be your line, but ‘what have I done now?’” 

“Nothing. Just wish you wouldn’t joke around so much.” 

Sirius arched his dark brows. “I specialize in jokes, mate. It’s kind of my M-O.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Then what do you mean?”

Remus took one of Sirius’ hands. “Your circulation is shit,” he remarked. Their eyes met. “I’m a werewolf, Sirius.”

“Wow, really?”

“It’s not funny. I know you said it doesn’t matter, but it does. People will talk. And I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Oh, baby, I wish you would.”

Remus dropped his hand abruptly. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why are you so upset?”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“No, you’re not taking me seriously. I love you, Remus.” 

They just sat there and looked at each other. 

Belief and disbelief fought in Lupin’s mind. Finally he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if I’m not…ready?”

Sirius put a hand on Remus’ shoulder, nodding quietly, then stood and went back into the house.

The first drops of rain fell.


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Al,

I’ve been home nearly a month and am beginning to wonder if Mum and Dad are going to let me into the light of day ever again, and that’s only exaggerating a little. I tried explaining You Know Who etc., but Mum wants to chalk it up to Irish terrorism again (she’s not entirely fond of Dad’s side of the family, and they still argue about it). The muggle papers recommend us to limit our trips outside, if possible. 

Petunia is horrible as ever, ignoring me whenever the subject of school comes up. She’s totally sugary in front of Mum and Dad, but I can hear her some evenings on the telephone with that same older bloke, talking shit. I really wish I could hex her, Al. 

Remus sent me an owl over Easter; did I ever tell you about that? He’s been reluctant to broach the subject of Severus, only offering empathy as someone else with mixed-blood heritage. He’s the type to say more than he’s actually saying—if that makes sense. AND, he uses “us” and “we” to include Potter and the others. “We are wishing you well,” bullshit. I’d bet the House Cup none of them even know he writes me. No doubt Potter would finagle him into being a wingman or something.

Otherwise he’s very kind, he’s already sent several me letters this summer. He thinks I would make a good Head Girl, but I think that may be reaching for the stars a bit. 

I miss you so much, but I hope you are having a lovely break with Frank. He’s a good one—definitely better for you than I would be. And that’s okay—you set the bar high. I’m glad we’re friends. 

Remind me to have you over for tea and video games someday. The arcade downtown—I promise it’s better than I described. I’ll get muggle coins and everything. And you’ve got to try Cola. 

I love you. Sincere thoughts from the dark pit of my parents’ house,

Lily 

\---

August, 1976.

The fire crackled in the Leaky Cauldron as Severus held down the muggle-born. Malfoy stood over them, his hand on his skeletal wand.

It was just the two of them, as Tom the barman had gone to bed, locked the front doors and stoked the fire. “Just keep it down,” he told them as they played chess. 

Now the silencing charm hovered in the air, casting a soft wavelike vignette at the corners of their vision.

“John Thomas. You work for the Department of Mysteries.”

The witch’s eyes were such a light brown they almost seemed orange, and wide with disgust. “I knew…there were Death Eater...students. Slytherin?” he choked out. 

Snape closed the windpipe with a flick of his wand. “We ask the questions.”

He let go, and the man spluttered. 

“This is taking too long. Imperio,” Malfoy hissed. 

The witch relaxed under Snape, who stepped away. 

“Where did you learn that—” Severus started, but Malfoy cut him off. 

“The Dark Lord seeks prophetic guidance,” Malfoy told the man. “Tell us everything you know.”

John Thomas’ face was clear of emotion. In a flat tone, he said, “We are tracking numerous seers with any connection to You Know Who: relatives, fans, researchers. As of yet we have foreseen nothing in his way of total domination. Just a few promising witches, including one at Hogwarts.”

“Name.”

“Sybill Trelawney,” he supplied dryly.

There was a pause, and then Malfoy said, “Wipe his memory.”

Snape obliged. 

“So much as associate with a mudblood, and we will come for you,” he whispered into Thomas’ ear as the man lost consciousness. 

\---

The Potters had made sure Sirius was comfortable in the guest bedroom with the round window. He had enough space to use his trunk as an extra surface, now crowded with books and parchment detailing necessary improvements for the Map. 

Egged on by James, Sirius had hung his poster of Led Zepplin on the wall. 

“We live together ten months out of the year anyway,” James had told him. “I’m glad to have you here.”

“This is your home too, dear,” Mrs. Potter had added. 

It was sweet, but untrue. Sirius graciously thanked her anyway. Guilt stirred in his abdomen and in his dreams.

Sirius thought about Regulus, now essentially an only child in that cold, cold house. Would any of them mention the elder son’s name, or had they sworn to forget it, he wondered. Surely his mother would purge any photos of him. 

Sirius had stopped crying years ago. He wished he could though, sometimes. He wished he could sharpen the pain like a blade on whetstone and be done with it all. 

Sometimes, he wanted to end things. 

He did not say this to James. It felt too dark to share. 

It was much easier to make lighthearted commentary about Quidditch teams, de-gnome the garden, and show James the exciting effects of muggle weed. 

His parents never caught on—at least, they never indicated they had. Mrs. Potter was often gardening or at the neighbor’s, and Mr. Potter had constant meetings with the Ministry. 

James and Sirius would lounge on beanbag chairs those long afternoons, listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and eating chips. 

“In the big scheme of things, Prongs, we don’t matter much. And that’s kind of comforting.”

“Or, you know, we’re actually legends no one knows about yet… Is your tongue like, hot and cold and hot again?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. He took another sip of his butterbeer. 

“It feels like…bigger than my head. Like it shouldn’t fit. Whoa.”

“You sound so thick right now.”

“I feel thick.” James giggled. 

\---

Another day, James was returning from the kitchen with a new bag of graham crackers. He flopped down onto the sleeping bag beside Sirius, who offered him a roasted marshmallow. A jar of blue flames sat before them. 

Outside, lightning flashed. It was one of those late afternoon summer storms that start to build mid-day and break hours later, pounding the roof.

“Glad we decided to move indoors,” James confessed, accepting the marshmallow and sticking it between two crackers. 

“Hot chocolate, boys?” Mr. Potter called from his study down the hall. 

“Yes, please!” James shouted back. 

Sirius said nothing.

“Can you imagine how jealous Peter would be of this set up if he could see us now? Pity he decided to go home after all.”

Sirius stuck his own marshmallow onto a skewer and held it above the flames. 

“You’re not still mad at him about that, are you?”

“If I had parents like his that cared even a little….” He did not finish. 

“Mum said she’d basically adopt you if you want.” James grinned. “Like a son or an emotional support dog, up to you.”

Sirius huffed—a ghost of a laugh. It was the laugh of his that said his mind was somewhere else. He made that sound a lot these days.

Mr. Potter made an appearance with a floating tray tailing him. He was a kindly, well-built man with a graying goatee. “Here you are. Mind the hot metal…. Oh, your hair is getting long again.”

James ran a hand through his curls. “I’d better have Remus cut it,” he answered. “Thanks, pops,” he added, pouring the tray contents into two mugs. 

Mr. Potter nodded and padded back up the hall.

“Know what classes you’re taking?”

Sirius plopped a third marshmallow into his cup. 

“I honestly haven’t expected to last this long,” he said. 

“At Hogwarts?”

He shrugged. “In general.”

“Well, don’t leave me to die in Muggle Studies alone. I hear it’s the dullest. But maybe it’ll help me understand Evans better.”

“Professor Binns still teaching?”

“Yes! History of Magic as well.” 

Sirius groaned. “Very well, then.”

\---

Dear Lily,  
I miss you too. I think of you all the time. Please do take me to the arcade someday. Been busy helping Frank’s family move. I’ll write more when I have a chance. Take care of yourself.  
Love always,  
Al

\---

With summer’s end, they eventually did receive the owls sent from Dumbledore. 

Shoulder to shoulder, students piled back into the platform between Kings Cross numbers nine and ten. It wasn’t until they emerged in front of the train that realization hit.

Rotting and ghostlike, Dementors stood as silent sentinels besides the doors, their shrouds twisting in an eerie wind. 

The hair on the back of James’ neck stood on end. Sirius took his arm and marched the both of them past onto the train. 

Remus followed several steps behind, gripping his wand in a pocket. He looked them in what would be their faces before continuing on. 

Peter ran pell-mell after him, shivering although it was late summer. Taking a seat on the floor between the seats of their compartment, he rocked back and forth. 

“I never want to go to Azkaban,” he muttered. 

Sirius put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

A couple rows down, Lily Evans joined Frank and Alice with Tate Tonks over a packet of chocolate frogs.

“I hate this,” Tonks breathed, shuffling their deck of tarot cards.

“Convenient of them not to have mentioned fucking Dementors would be part of it,” Alice muttered, tearing open a chocolate frog packet to reveal a shiny portrait of Bertie Bott, inventor of Every Flavor Beans. 

“Dad would have a fit if I told him,” Frank said. 

Lily sat still, not talking. She replayed the sound that had echoed in her ears just moments earlier in that ungodly chill, the echoes of her own screaming.

Frank put a hand on hers. “Lily?”

She startled and blinked. “Fine. I’m fine.” She accepted a card from the fan Tonks offered her, and flipped it over. 

There was a woman rosy-cheeked and hair wild, gazing down peacefully at a lion, its head in her hands. 

Strength. 

“That’s my favorite one,” Tonks told her. “It’s about coexisting with difficult circumstances, not trying to defeat them necessarily. It’s a very wise card.”

“Thanks,” Lily said.

“That’s our Evans for you,” Alice muttered, draping an arm around her friend’s shoulders. Lily studied the card. 

“Can I try another?” She finally said.

“Sure.” Tonks leaned forward and fanned the deck a second time.

The card Lily pulled this time had a pair of figures on it in a passionate embrace. 

The Lovers. 

“Ooooooohh,” went Alice.

“Ew, okay, I’m done now,” Lily stated, giving the card back. They all laughed. 

“This is your year to find a girlfriend! Or a bloke, you know, but that’s not as exciting,” Tonks joked. 

Evans was about as red as her hair. “Frank should draw next.”

Graciously, Frank made a show of selecting his own card, wiggling his fingers dramatically along the row. 

“Whoosh!” he cried, revealing a black inky figure with horns. “OH NO! The DEVIL!” Pretending to faint, he fell back against his seat. 

“It’s not too literal,” Tonks reassured the rest of them.

“Could this be a year of DEBAUCHERY?? How could you!” Alice cackled, prodding Frank with the toe of her boot. 

Lily couldn’t help but grin. Being surrounded by friends again, she felt she was finally able to let out a breath she’d been holding all summer. 

She managed to forget about the Dementors. 

\---

Sirius watched grim-faced as the new first years were sorted. He saw the excitement and nervousness in their eyes, recalling his own sweaty palms as an eleven-year old. How silent it had been at the Slytherin table when the elder Black child fell to Gryffindor! The Hat was never wrong, and they knew it. 

What a mistake he was.

James shook him out of his rumination, pointing to the high table. Their Headmaster exchanged a meaningful look with McGonagall before standing.

“Welcome once again to another year at Hogwarts!”

The same pleasantries, the same warnings against the Forbidden Forest, though this time it seemed to be costing Dumbledore more somehow. He paused and looked into his hands at one point, then added, “We have installed new boundaries on school grounds, closing off the village of Hogsmead as well as certain other places. While these will help to keep all of us safe, I ask that you leave them well alone.” 

At this, Peter looked to Remus. “What does he mean?”

Remus shrugged. His eyes slid to Sirius. 

“I reckon they’ve closed all the passages out of Hogwarts,” James responded, scratching his jawline where the faint shadow of stubble hung. 

“If that’s the case, you’ll be Head Boy by the end of semester, and I’ll be Queen of England,” Sirius remarked. “We don’t even know all the exits.”

“They’ll sure try,” Remus said. “And careful what you wish for, Pads, I’ve heard Evans is aiming for Head Girl.”

“Well, fuck, man,” Peter told James.

“She’s not that out of my league.”

“Don’t bother,” Sirius told him. 

“Bloody hell, way to back me up! Alright.” He straightened up, a serious expression taking shape on his face. “Mark my words, I’ll win her over.”

“You’re not actually suggesting Head Boy!”

“Bet,” Peter piped up, looking at Sirius. “Ten galleons.”

“Ten galleons!”

“And a shot of fire whiskey.”

“For me to take, or for you to drink while I capture it on muggle video?”

“Yes.”

“Deal.” They shook on it.

“Oh deer,” James said. These things got out of hand so quickly.

So much for that aspiration.

“What exactly have you done this time?” Remus demanded a couple days later, noting his friends’ sheepish expressions. 

“James punched Malfoy!”

“It was more a gentle…slap,” James amended. 

“With your fist!” 

“He called Evans a m—you know!”

Remus sighed. “Please tell me you at least apologized.”

“Like hell!”

“His father’s getting involved.”

“Goddammit, Wormtail, why’d you have to tell him that part?”

“Great progress towards Head Boy.” Lupin started laughing, actually laughing. 

Mouths agape, the other three stared at him. 

“We’ve finally corrupted him,” Sirius whispered, disbelieving.

“I honestly figured you’d have blown up Filch’s cat or something. This is…well, this we can deal with. I’ll speak to Dumbledore. Thank me later.”

Remus was well aware of their shock as he took a left out of the library suite and down the corridor to the lower levels. 

Perhaps Sirius was right, they really had derailed him from the path of rule following. Either way, he was tired of walking the line of Prefect and Marauder, both and neither at the same time. 

\---

Lily passed James in the hallway that Saturday. 

He waved to her, grinning that silly stupid grin. “Off to class, Evans? Wish I were. Instead, detention!”

She rolled her eyes at him, but the anger did not come. She kept walking. Honestly, she thought. It was the first week of classes. What had he done already?

“Have a lovely day, but not as lovely as you!”

Damn Potter and his cheeriness.


	9. Chapter 9

Peter began to notice Sirius taking longer and longer to get up in the mornings, and sometimes he would even fail to show for their meetings to improve the Map. 

“What’s up with Padfoot these days?” he asked Remus one day in the common room as the latter poured over a hefty volume on Ancient Runes. 

“How should I know?”

“Well…it’s not like him.”

“He’s been with James a lot, ask him.” Peter felt the tone like a sting across the face. “Look, I’m sorry Pete. It’s just school stress.”

“It’s okay.” Peter shook his head. He withdrew into himself. It was probably nothing, just an overreaction to minute changes in the group dynamic. Way to go, he told himself. Was he just stirring up trouble where it didn’t exist?

Some evenings he would watch his two of his friends play wizards chess and the third commentate. Remus let Sirius play with his hair. They shared more of those inscrutable glances. James would pretend not to notice, instead teasing Peter about his silences. 

“You want to play with these idiots?”

“No, he’s too wise to bother with us.”

“I’ll play,” Peter broke in. 

He was decent at chess, far better on average than James. Still, playing Lupin was a guaranteed defeat, especially when Sirius backed him. 

It took only twenty turns for Peter to lose, which was fine.

Everything was fine. 

\---

Sirius woke up on the floor again, an empty bottle in his hand. His Doc Martins were still on, neatly tied as they had been that morning. Or had it been the morning before? 

He had forgotten what it was he’d had. 

Shame ate at his throat as he turned over and pushed up into a sitting position. His head was a slow-motion earthquake. His eyes felt like burning paperweights, scorching into his skull. 

He squinted through the semi-dark at the old grandfather clock at the wall. 

4:50 A.M. or so, he guessed. It was hard to see from here.

He pulled himself over to it, swearing under his breath at the way every muscle ached from being in the same position too long.

The wood was cold under his hands, its grain fine and silky. He thought about using it to stand. 

He could imagine the look on his mother’s face if she found him like this. It stung.

I don’t need help. 

It would be day soon enough, too soon to try and go back to sleep. He had barely decided this and stood when he was violently sick. 

He flashed to a time boiling water gurgled down his throat. He remembered the gagging, the feeling of damage. It was been because of something he’d said long ago, as a child, maybe eight or nine. The memory of burning had long since replaced whatever it was. 

“Evanesco,” he muttered now, wiping his mouth. The sick vanished.

He stumbled to the window and pulled back the rich velvet curtain. The sky was a dusty gray.

He climbed to the sill and half-sat, half-leaned upon it, wishing he could skip this day and fall back into the arms of sleep. It was the safest place for him, surely. 

James turned over in his bunk and groaned. “Sirius, what time is it?”

“Nearly five in the morning.”

James groaned again, sat up, and climbed down the bedside latter, careful not to disturb a sleeping Peter. He dragged a fuzzy Gryffindor blanket with him as he padded over to Sirius, and leaned against him sleepily. 

“Go back to sleep,” he told James.

“Nah.”

James offered the fuzzy blanket to Sirius, who took it and wrapped it around himself. 

“Come sit on the couch with me,” James said. 

Knowing it would be fruitless to argue, the other followed. 

By the time he made it to the bottom of the dormitory stairs, James had curled up on the sofa, his head on one of its arms. Sirius sat with him.

“You’re sad.” It wasn’t a question. 

Sirius met James’ eyes and shrugged. “I don’t feel much of anything.”

They sat for several minutes. 

“I mean I don’t miss my family at all. There’s just this…gaping hole, except nobody’s died. Isn’t that fucked? I thought I’d be rid of them, but I’m not really. I mean I’m supposed to be better off now…does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” James said. 

“I just don’t want to deal with it.”

“Someday you won’t have to. In the meantime at least, you’re stuck with us. You going to share that?” James asked, holding out an arm toward the blanket. Sirius put a fuzzy corner in his hand. 

James yanked. 

Sirius made a noise as he flopped reluctantly sideways onto James’ stomach.

“Comfy?” James said, as Sirius adjusted himself. 

The corner of the latter’s mouth twitched. “Didn’t realize you were so soft, Prongs.”

“So? Gotta let yourself feel once in a while.” 

“Isn’t it exhausting?”

“Fuck yeah, mate. But that’s what I get for living, I suppose.” 

“How dare you.” 

James smiled.

Neither of them said anything about how the Potters were more absent than present, or that Sirius would have been be more than glad to have had them as parents.

Finally Remus and Peter came downstairs and dragged them off to breakfast. 

\---

It was a gloomy October. Fog hung heavily over the school grounds, nearly blocking out any sight of the forest. The humid air made wooly coats heavy to walk in, and cold seep into the bones. Even Hagrid’s lovingly tended pumpkin patch and garden looked foreboding in the cloudy monotone. 

The stretch between Sprout’s green house and the courtyard felt much longer than Lily remembered it. The obscured sun left everything bleak. 

In the shadows of the castle before her emerged a figure with inky hair.

As he passed her, she barely recognized him. His cold eyes stared straight ahead, fixed with concentration. Hooked nosed and taller than she remembered, Severus Snape strode on. 

Lily caught herself almost saying something to him, and thinking better of it. She felt the blood leave her face, felt her stomach twist in unresolved bitterness.

She was a stranger now. 

They both were, in a way.

The emptiness crept in. Perhaps it was the effect of the Dementors. She walked on. 

\---

Professor Binns droned on and on about the practicality of the Industrial Revolution and how electricity was now the staple of Muggle society.

Lily shook herself from a daze yet again that period. Curiously enough, beside her was a furrow-browed James Potter, head bent over a quill, taking extensive notes.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be until 1829 that Muggles in North America would come to invent the typewriter, a true milestone in technological innovation. Many would compare its importance to the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood by our own Headmaster.”

Tonks yawned behind them. Binns hummed to himself, turned to the chalkboard and wrote several dates down. 

“Excuse me, Professor—” James raised his hand. 

“Yes…Mr. Potter, is it?”

“Why’d they decide to arrange the letters not alphabetically, but…” He checked his notes, “with QUERTY?”

“Excellent question! The QUERTY arrangement first appears in 1872 and became popular due to functionality. The idea was to privilege letters most often used….”

James scribbled in his notes furiously at this, muttering to himself. 

“Oy,” Lily hissed. 

James looked up. “Evans, hello.”

“What’s this all about, then?” she whispered to him under the sound of Sirius Black snoring. 

He shrugged. “Learning.”

For once, there was no irony in his voice. 

She stared at him, waiting for the punch line. It did not come.

James shot her a hesitant smile, and then went back to his textbook, writing in the margins. The rest of class she couldn’t help but to watch him engage with the material, ask unusual questions, and marvel at the answers. 

Professor Binns looked rather pleased to have a student participate for once.

\---

“At first I was convinced it was some kind of show,” she told Alice and Frank later that evening as they poured over Arithmancy homework in the library.

“Muggle Studies? Really?”

“I know! Of all the subjects…especially with You Know Who on the rise.”

Frank shook his head. “Mad,” he muttered. 

Lily looked to Alice, whose warm chocolate eyes crinkled at the edges as she spoke. “Well, what do you know? He’s finally interested in something other than you.”

She laughed as Lily uttered her indignation, blushing pink. 

“I know Potter. He’s not the scholarly type. It doesn’t make sense!”

“Lily, darling.” Alice took her hand. “So little makes sense these days.”

\---

Remus walked the length of the common room, turning neatly at the end to show them his new blue winter jacket, courtesy of James. It was finely made, with sued elbow pads and a matching collar. 

“Wow, you look great,” Sirius said quietly. Peter nodded in agreement. 

“You really shouldn’t have,” Remus told James sternly, though his eyes shone with gratitude. 

“I love spoiling my boys.” James grinned. 

“This must have cost a fortune. First the cauldron set, now this…”

“You deserve it all, Moony. It’s a pleasure.” 

Lupin blushed a little, hands in his pockets. “Well…thanks.”

It was Peter who had noticed first and told James about the holes in Remus’ boots, about how the zipper on his hand-me-down jacket had stuck ages ago. No one had come right out and said anything to Remus, of course, but he was used to hiding struggle. Hogwarts was a prestigious school after all.

He balanced his guilt with good grades and told himself it was enough. 

Two years ago, when James bought him a new broomstick “in case you want to try out for the team or whatever,” he had been ashamed at being unable to pay it back. Once he worked up the courage to say something, James convinced him the gift had a strict no-return policy. 

Remus grudgingly accepted this. Over time, the other three had managed to work him down to accepting small presents now and then, though only useful ones he actually needed. 

Over the last year these had included a thick mixed-fiber scarf from Peter, a pair of magical heated gloves from Sirius, and a new silver-tipped quill from Lily Evans to replace his old rusty one. This last gift had arrived in the morning mail, unsigned, at breakfast. “Secret admirer!” Peter had gasped. 

Now Remus sat down on the rug before the coffee table, buttoning the pockets closed. 

“Feels like Christmas,” he said. 

They smiled at him, Sirius tussling his hair. 

The portrait of the Fat Lady creaked open and in stepped Frank Longbottom. “Good look, Lupin,” he noted, passing through.

Remus turned a deeper shade of pink at this. 

“Quick, let’s talk about something else,” Sirius said, smirking. 

“Evans,” James suggested. Peter and Remus exchanged looks.

“Evans,” Sirius agreed. He watched a small smile form at the corner of Remus’ lips. He wanted to say a lot of things. But Remus knew.

Remus knew.

\---

As Quidditch was still cancelled, and Hogsmead closed to students, every weekend stretched on and on. At first this was a relief, interspersed with studying—thanks, Remus—and homework. Then it became boredom, suffocating, unending boredom: the breeding ground for trouble. 

When he wasn’t thinking of Lily, James kept a close eye on Sirius, whose temper was often short or entirely swamped by apathy. 

Just yesterday, as they were climbing the stairs to detention with Trelawney, someone pushed roughly past Sirius, who caught himself on the railing. Swearing, he flicked his wand and lassoed the offender’s foot. 

Regulus Black tripped, startled, and locked eyes with his brother. 

Sirius had barely realized who it was when Regulus broke away, dusting off his robes. He had the glow of wealth about him, clean-shaven and well taken care of.

“HEY,” Sirius called after him, but Regulus left in silence. 

“You’re a blood traitor, remember?” James prodded him in the ribs. 

Sirius sighed humorlessly. When he wasn’t lit up in conversation with his friends, James knew he was in a low-level pain. Sirius forgot to eat and had to be reminded often, and while he slept soundly, James couldn’t help but to notice his fatigue most days. Even under his effortless grace and uncanny good looks.

Remus did not seem too worried about him, which comforted James to some extent. Then again, Remus took school very seriously and could be blinded by it. 

Today the four of them sat in a far corner of the library, next to the open window draped with a light magenta curtain that rose and fell the wind.

“…Just here, it talks about the Wolfsbane potion, see?” Remus pointed to a page in the tomb before them. Peter followed his gaze and deciphered the passage. 

“Sounds complicated.”

“We should try it. Test the first batch out on Snivelus,” Sirius muttered. “Haven’t seen much of him these days. Pity, eh, James?”

James shrugged. “Haven’t thought about him in a while, honestly.”

“Bloody boggarts,” Sirius sighed. “I’d kill to forget the bastard.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Remus breathed. 

Sirius sighed again, and James clapped him on the back. “Let’s the two of us go sneak some love potion into Ol’ Filch’s pumpkin juice tonight. Make him fall for his cat.”

“Not sure he even needs a love potion to do that,” Peter interjected. 

“What I need is a good Cheering Charm or something.” 

“I could make you a Pepperup,” Remus offered, still reading. “Some of the ingredients are the same for the Wolfsbane potion…”

“Okay,” Sirius agreed. 

\---

James was sat in the middle of transfiguration classroom on lunch break, comparing Muggle Studies notes to the spell textbook when Lily found him.

“Are you…studying?” she asked incredulously.

“Mm hmm,” he mumbled. “Good to see you too, Evans.”

“Why?”

“Uh, well…I fancy you?”

“No—I mean, you're studying.”

James fixed her with a confused look, as if he were translating the question. “Well,” he said, indicating what seemed to be a thermal equation, “Muggles have figured out a form of alchemy. There are certain chemical reactions for making new things from existing elements. I was just wondering if it could explain magic.”

Her face must have surprised him, because he added, “I know it’s a silly idea.”

“It’s not,” she murmured, drawing up a chair to sit beside him. “May I?”

At his nod, she studied his barely legible handwriting, biting her lip. “Hmmm.” He watched as Lily tilted her head to one side, running a slender finger down the passage detailing the charm to turn ground mole into matchbox. 

“I like the idea, the interdisciplinary aspect,” she said finally, turning to him. How close she was, he realized suddenly. His mouth was very dry.

“Are you free to look further into this with me later?” she asked. 

“I—uh, sure.”

“Tonight?”

“I can’t,” he rambled. “I promised Sirius I’d help him…he’s not been doing great and well, uh, I….”

She shook her head and stood. “Another time, then. I guess I should be getting something to eat. See you around, Potter.”

He might as well have been stupefied right there, mouth slightly open as her footsteps faded out of the room. Lily Evans thought his ideas were interesting, wanted to study with him, even?

There was no explanation for it. 

\---

Filch picked up Mrs. Norris, and as gently as he had ever done anything, kissed the top of her furry head. 

“You are the only one for me, my sweet,” he told her. “You are the best thing in this life.”

Sirius laughed breathlessly under the invisibility cloak, his shoulders shaking as tears pooled in his dark eyes. James clapped a hand to his own mouth to keep from drawing attention to them as the caretaker began to sway back and forth to a tune only he could hear. 

Mrs. Norris purred as the two of them danced in Filch’s grungy office by lantern light, cast in a soft orange glow.


	10. Chapter 10

November 1976.

Peter sprinted full-speed to the third floor corridor, where James and Remus were huddled, among a crowd of mostly Gryffindors. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had run so fast. Perhaps it had been to warn James that Snape had taken Sirius’ dare too literally and was poking about the entrance to the Shrieking Shack where a fully-fledged werewolf waited. 

His chest burnt now as it had then, blood thudding in his ears as he stopped to catch his breath. Finally arriving, his hands upon his knees, vision swimming, he handed over a crumpled inky poster. 

“I know, Peter.” James’ voice was grim as he took it. 

“They’ve been plastered all over the castle,” Sirius told Pettigrew. 

There were a couple worried murmurs among the students assembled as the posters were passed around. 

Alice stared down at the empty-eyed skull, at its open-mouthed grin. In place of a tongue was a snake. Below was scrolled a short declaration. 

JOIN OR PERISH. 

“This is…”

“Not good,” Sirius finished Peter’s sentence for him. 

There was a panicked cry from one of the younger students. “I don’t understand! Dumbledore said the ministry was reinforcing…”

“Death Eaters, right? It’s got to be,” someone said.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“They’re just playing fear tactics. Wait ‘til the papers get a hold of this.”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

\---

Minerva McGonagall was not impressed. 

“You are to move about the castle in groups of three or more, as it seems You Know Who’s forces have infiltrated the school. Dumbledore is speaking with the Minister presently. We will get this sorted, but in the meantime, please just stay calm,” she instructed Gryffindor House, pursing her lips in unspoken irritation. 

Sirius raised his hand. 

“Yes, Mr. Black?”

“I told you so,” he replied.

The room fell silent. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor and detention in my office tomorrow for your cheek.” She turned to the rest of them. “Anyone else have something they want to share?”

No one did. She dipped her head, told Remus to keep an eye on everyone, and departed. 

“Damn!” James fist-bumped Sirius once she had gone. 

“That was ballsy as hell,” Peter spluttered. 

Sirius grimaced and looked across the room, where he met Remus’ eyes. Right then he didn’t know if he wanted approval or scorn. He felt lit from within by a carelessness he could not name. 

Remus raised an eyebrow. 

Sirius grinned. “Worth it,” he said finally. 

\----

Before long, Christmas was around the corner once again. 

Slytherin House had been uncharacteristically well behaved, as no further incidents rose to the attention of the teachers. The Dementors continued to circle the grounds, of course, and the Daily Prophet maintained an air of gloomy anticipation. Perhaps most disappointing of all was the fact that no amount of bribery or good spirits could get McGonagall to cancel midterms. 

Lily Evans joined the other four at the library some evenings, occasionally accompanied by Alice. She seemed to have finally forgiven, if not forgotten, James’ last tussle with Snape. 

“Okay, but look at the International Statute of Secrecy,” Lily told them, pointing to a history book. “The timeline shows witch burnings fizzling out at the same time the muggle government instituted policies to address on economic unrest.”

“That could be a factor of industrialization, though,” James contended.

“I don’t follow,” Peter piped in.

“But we didn’t leave the muggles alone,” Lily continued. 

“She’s right,” Remus interjected. “The Statute only says we are to keep our power secret, not eliminate it from muggle society. I’d bet money there were witches who still wanted to participate, and help shape non-magical England.”

“And to challenge the economic status quo? Marxism,” Lily said, pounding her fist on the table for emphasis. 

“Muggles could have come up with Marxism,” James said.

“Have you read Karl Marx?” Sirius cried, suddenly joining in. 

“Well, no, but…”

“Interesting hypothesis, Lily,” Remus remarked. “You always connect the dots.” He handed over his red-ink quill, and she circled her notes with it. 

Peter scratched his chin. “Marx isn’t in any of the History of Magic books, though.”

“I bet it was a penname.” Sirius beamed. “Cheeky bastard.”

James frowned, leaned over Lily’s neat handwriting, and shook his head. “It does seem like a huge oversight to assume the Statute completely segregated magical and non-magic folk. Which only leads to the conclusion that witches have always contributed to muggle society, perhaps even including Marxism.” 

Lily nodded. “Thank you.”

“I wish I’d thought of that for Binns’ paper. Oh well.”

“Wait, we have a paper?” Sirius paled. “When’s it due?”

“End of the week. The theme is ‘social structures,’” James said.

“Boggarts.” 

“I’ll help you with it. You can write yours on the rock music industry or something.”

Sirius brightened at that. “Pink Floyd?”

James nodded. “Pink Floyd.”

\----

The crackling of the fire greeted Peter as he climbed past the portrait of the Fat Lady into the Gryffindor common room, where several older students including members of the Quidditch team, the Hufflepuff Tate Tonks and young Ravenclaw Kingsley Shacklebolt were gathered. At the sight of so many people, Peter’s stomach dropped.

“…That’s what I mean, Zabini was acting weird.”

“But Tonks, are you sure you’re not saying that because he’s a Slytherin?” 

“No, he straight-up asked me if I knew what was good for me. How is that not a veiled threat? Coming from a pure-blood whose father is a known supporter of You-Know-Who…”

“That’s not enough proof for McGonagall.”

“No, it’s not,” Shacklebolt agreed.

“Hey, Peter, I was just looking for you,” Alice said, walking over to him. She wore a vivid pair of sunflower earrings. “A bunch of us are planning to surprise Hagrid for Christmas. Pitching in for a couple dozen spools of yarn—I hear she likes to knit.”

“I—uh, yeah, sure…what’s Tonks on about?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Slytherins being Slytherins.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, never mind. Just the gossip these days: who’s going to side with You Know Who’s followers? I think we all have a guess. Anyway, you’ll pitch in?”

“For yarn? I guess so.” He watched Alice waltz away to join Frank, feeling the pit in his stomach turn over. 

How exactly was that comment any different than “mudbloods being mudbloods,” he wondered. Surely, Slytherins had their purpose too, just like muggle-borns. All in all, it felt too much like politics, and Peter had never been a fan. 

He had had a Slytherin great-grandfather, whom his own mother remembered as cheering her on when she was sorted into Gryffindor. Why was it such a crime to slide the other way? 

He brushed it off, avoiding the rest of them, and retreated into his dormitory. 

Yet the thoughts did not stop. 

He recalled a time when James had fallen flat on his face on an icy patch of earth one winter in front of a hoard of their silver and green-clad peers. He’d sworn they had made him do it. “You just can’t trust any of them,” he had said. 

Remus seemed to think they all hated mudbloods. But how could that be? And why did it matter so much if it seemed everyone else hated Slytherins just the same? The way they stuck together, it almost seemed like it was for protection.

Peter turned over, picturing what his friends would say. He could visualize their faces; hear the teasing tones, the displeasure that reminded him of his own parents’. 

Feeling for the enemy is just as bad as being them. 

But Peter wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t. 

He turned over again, trying to sleep. 

\---

One week from Christmas break, Peter got up the nerve to talk with Lou Zabini himself during Herbology class. Zabini had never been one to actually provoke conflict. Similar to Peter, he seemed the type to sit back and support others, jumping in if he was needed.

Professor Sprout was calling up students to take turns labeling each anatomical part of the Devil’s Snare plant on her chalkboard. At Zabini’s turn, Peter raised his hand eagerly, and joined the darker student.

“Devil’s Snare has a large vascular root system, as you recall,” Professor Sprout lectured. 

Peter picked up the chalk Zabini had been going for, and their eyes met. 

“Give it over, Pettigrew,” he said softly.

Peter snapped the chalk stick in half, returning one of the parts. “Surely there’s enough to go around.”

Zabini’s golden eyes narrowed and returned to the board. 

“There could be,” he murmured, so low Peter almost did not hear. 

“Well done, you two. Everyone take a look at the porous structure here…”

As they returned to their seats, Peter caught Zabini looking at him again. Was he sizing him up as a target? An equal? 

At the end of period bell, Peter scooped up his notes and thrust them back into their plain gray folder. He stood to smooth his robes when a voice spoke in his ear: “You know more than you let on.” 

He turned around sharply, and Lou smirked, rolling up his parchment as he strode from the room.

Peter blinked, feeling a brief glow of pride fill his chest, followed quickly by resounding guilt. It was barely a compliment at all, based on limited observation. Stupid, he thought. 

\--- 

Over dinner with his friends, Peter chewed mindlessly. 

He was only dimly aware of what he was eating, the fact of James’ exhilaration over his essay grade from Binns and the way Lily smirked at this; how Sirius took Remus’ hand as if it were nothing. 

“This is a very elaborate prank,” the latter said. 

“Seems like it,” Sirius shot back, winking. 

“Give it up, you two,” Alice teased, Frank’s arm slung around her shoulder. 

“Never.” 

And then James was poking Peter in his ribs. “W-what?” 

“I just said it was your idea for me to try for Head Boy.”

“Oh—yeah,” Peter tried to collect his expression. “With your track record, it’ll be a real miracle.”

“I never thought of you as an over-achiever,” Lily remarked.

“Nor did I. It’s Moony’s fault, really,” James joked. 

Remus took a long sip from his goblet in reply. 

“You’re welcome,” said Sirius. 

“He’s not there yet,” Alice clarified. “Not like our Lily Evans.”

“That’s enough, Al.” Lily smiled sheepishly at James, who beamed at her. 

Frank eyed Alice, who deftly put a tart in his mouth. 

“Congrats,” Remus said, clapping a hand on Lily’s shoulder. There was a chorus of this, impressed and surprised though Peter barely registered it. He was imagining being hated by these people, what that would feel like. To have them whisper and glare at him because of a stupid House division. To have them suspect him of evil purely because of a categorization outside his control. 

“Wormtail,” James said, dragging Peter back to the present. 

“S-sorry.”

“Head in the clouds again. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, been a long semester. I miss Quidditch.”

Frank nodded understandingly, but it wasn’t enough for James Potter, who had invested too much time and care into this group not to notice something was off. 

“We can chat later,” he invited.

\---

“Well done, once again,” Remus told Lily as they rose from their seats and went their separate ways. 

Sirius stood too, brushing a hair from his friend’s cloak. “One of mine, I think.” 

Remus turned to him, a little confused. His eyes reflected the floating candle flames. “What did you say?”

“I’m shedding again.”

“Oh Padfoot,” James sighed. It had been long enough that the joke was entirely implied now, so none but the four of them smiled in understanding.

“Well, Peter and I have Potions to study for tomorrow. We’d better get to it.” 

“Good luck,” Remus told them, and to Sirius: “Let’s go.” 

They headed out of the great hall, down a corridor alongside the flickering of torches and finally turned left toward a moving staircase. 

“Where to?” Sirius asked.

“Not entirely sure. I just want to walk you. Walk with you.”

“Woof woof.”

“Shove off.”

They climbed the stairs past the several portraits, which chatted merrily, or else hummed slightly. At the top of the stairs stretched a couple of marble pillars. Beyond them lay the astronomy tower entrance.

It’ll be a full moon soon, maybe in three or four days, Remus thought. He could feel his senses picking up shapes and smells in the night. He pushed through the doors and continued up into the steeple, Sirius a tall velvet shadow behind him. 

Finally they emerged into the roof, greeted by a harsh cold wind. 

This was among the highest spot on the grounds, second only to Trelawney’s tower. They could see the whole lake, the forest smoothing into a great textured darkness of hills and mountains. 

“Look, it’s me,” Sirius said, pointing to a far off constellation. Remus squinted, and sure enough, there it was: the Dog Star. “And there…is you.” He pointed higher up, to the moon. 

The wind whipped their hair, catching their robes. Remus nestled his hands deep in his pockets, shivering. 

“Here,” Sirius murmured, stepping forward a pace. He took Remus’ hands in his own, which were warm for once. “It’s a good night for stars,” he muttered, because it was all he could say. But the skin between his brows was smooth, and there was even the slightest hint of a smile dancing at the corners of his eyes.

Remus felt soft seeing Sirius like that, relaxed, somehow more himself than he had been in a long time. It was all they could ask for to just be here together.

“You know, it’s okay with me if you’re not ready,” Sirius said then, eyes fixed on their hands. “I just feel…so at home with you.”

Remus embraced him. He felt the soft pounding of Sirius’ heart in his chest, felt his lungs release as he breathed out. 

“Remus?” His voice sounded so close with Remus’ ear pressed against him. The fear and anxiety he had stifled with schoolwork for many sleepless nights finally gave out then, and in its place, a deep quiet gathered.

“I am…rather afraid of the future,” Remus whispered. 

He was uncertain for a second if Sirius had heard it, what with the rustling of cloaks in the wind and the shifting of the trees out in that profound blackness.

“I’m not,” Sirius confessed. He kissed Remus’ forehead very softly. 

Remus pulled him down and kissed him full on the mouth. 

It was like the light of early morning come to wake him from a night of agony. Reminding Remus he was human. Reminding him that he could be forgiven, too. They both could be.


	11. Epilogue

Hogwarts, 1977.

The first buds of springtime speckled the branches of the Whomping Willow, which glinted in the crisp morning.

Remus had cast a spell on the embers of Gryffindor’s fireplace so that it continued to burn throughout the night. Now it emitted a mellow glow onto the faces of his friends as they sat around a low table. 

James had stolen mugs of hot chocolate and coffee from the kitchens for each of them, which he and Sirius were yawning over. 

“Is that it?” Peter asked, curled under a blanket. 

“I reckon that’s enough,” said James, staring down at the Map before them. 

Its parchment was spread out and unassuming, marking corridors and passageways they had traveled for so many years. It had seen them through victories and arguments, through chaos and redemption, and finishing it now felt like the end of an era.

Remus opened his mouth to say something to this effect, but the feeling was too big just then, and he ended up closing it again. 

“Let it be known to history that we’ve done it.” Sirius shook his head in tired amazement. “That’s legend material, boys.”

“The culmination of…three, four years, now?” Peter asked, touching its curled edge with fondness.

“Easily.”

Remus looked to Lily, who was asleep on the couch behind James. “You should show her when she wakes up, mate.” 

James grinned and nodded. “Any chance you’ll let us sleep in just this once and skip class, Moony?”

“Only…as long as you lot pass end of term exams. I mean it.”

“He really does love us after all,” Sirius said, sticking out his tongue. 

“Big surprise?” Remus asked. Sirius kissed his forehead.

“I still can’t believe we finished it,” Peter said under his breath. “I mean, now what?”

James stretched, careful not to disturb Lily. 

“Well now, we use it to our full advantage, and whatever happens, happens. Mostly, we move forward with the knowledge of our unrivaled brilliance.” He laughed. “No, actually, it’s time to go to bed. I dunno about you three, but I feel like I’ve been run over by a hippogriff.”

“Right behind you, mate.”

“Sleep well. And good night.”


End file.
